


From Lands Beyond

by amnevitah



Series: History Will Be Kind To Me [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Elves, Exploration, F/M, Female Character of Color, Gen, Language Barrier, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Modern Insert, No Tenth Walker, With A Twist, Worldbuilding, and badass lady elves, and happy elves, and harad, and serious elves, and the east, and the south, girl-falls-into-middle-earth-fic, of rhun, quirky elves, so many elves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1701797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amnevitah/pseuds/amnevitah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time a very different Alice wakes up in a very different Wonderland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Surprise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alice cries (and swears) a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. I rewrote it. Again…don’t look at me like that. I much prefer this chapter over the old one. I’m actually rewriting all the current chapters so they mesh together better and don’t sound so goddamned hurried. Also I’m implementing a new structure to the story. Odd-numbered chapters (i.e. 1, 3, 5, etc) will be entirely from Alice’s POV whereas even-numbered chapters (i.e. 2, 4, 6, etc) will be from Celírion’s POV. Just a head’s up. You may have also recently noticed the rating has changed from ‘T’ to ‘M’. This is to cover all of the foul language (Alice has a fondness for the word ‘fuck’ and its many iterations) and possible (but not guaranteed) sexual situations that may or may not be coming up later on. Also violence. There’s going to be a lot of that soon enough.
> 
> Edit: I added a title card for this chapter. So...you know...now you know what Alice looks like in her underwear.

 

 "Not only do I not know what's going on, I wouldn't know what to do about it if I did." **- _George Carlin_**

* * *

  **The Field of Celebrant, 2998 of the Third Age**  

Once, when she was nine, Alice had gotten lost in the woods on a school camping trip. As it turned out, _this_ was _not_ like that.

In fact, it was _worse_.

_Jesus Alice, what rabbit hole have you fallen down this time?_

A very grassy one apparently. Somewhere to her left she could spy mountains off in the distance but otherwise it was nothing but endless yellow stalks as far as the eye could see. It reminded her of Montana…not that she’d actually ever _been_ to Montana…unless this _was_ Montana?

For what had to have been the thousandth time, Alice felt the wheres, whys, and hows begin to resurface in her mind with a feeling nearly akin to panic before she savagely squashed them down again. She’d had quite enough of nervous breakdowns today thankyouverymuch. It seemed like _all_ she’d done since waking up here was cry uncontrollably. Which, to be fair, was _completely_ understandable. Unfortunately her triumphant moment of self-control lasted all of half a second as she turned her eyes to the horizon and took notice of the saffron-stained sky. As she watched the sun sink ever so slowly into the east she felt a heavy sense of dread begin to coil alarmingly in the pit of her stomach.

It would be dark soon.

And she was alone.

Alone and afraid and _half-naked_.

Stupidly, Alice wondered why she hadn’t gone to bed in one of the myriad of pajama bottoms that sat unused in the corner of her underwear drawer. At least then she wouldn’t be sitting in the middle of nowhere in just a raggedy t-shirt and her underwear. Seriously, from now on it was pajama bottoms all the way. No excuses.

The sun sank further, bleeding into the horizon like an omen.

It was that image that stayed with her and followed her into her dreams as the encroaching night finally swallowed the sun whole.

**\---oo0oo---**

The following morning Alice awoke to a massive crick in her neck, a plethora of bug-bites (that she had to resolutely force herself _not_ to scratch), and a firm sense of fortitude and optimism which she had _most_ _definitely_  not had the day before. Then again, a parched throat and a grumbling stomach could be _exceedingly_ powerful motivators.

_Okay. Time to put your best foot forward. No more moping._

Unfortunately her _best foot_ _forward_ stepped on a rather pointy rock and made her realize (after quite a lot of agonized swearing) that she wasn’t going anywhere without some form of footwear. Which is how Alice ended up spending the better part of the morning wrestling with her t-shirt as she ripped off the sleeves and finagled them into pseudo-sandals. Granted they barely provided the same protection as her cheap foam flip-flops back home but they were also better than nothing at all.

 _Eat your heart out Martha Stewart_.

As it turned out she didn’t have to go far to find water. There was a stream a few hundred yards away and neither thought of dysentery or cholera could stop her from lapping up the water like an animal. She figured she could regret the decision later when she suddenly started vomiting up her intestines.

Her thirst abated, Alice finally gave her surroundings a better look. Sure, she’d stared at it all day yesterday, but most of that staring had _really_ just been her gazing at nothing as she wondered _how the hell she could be looking at it in the first place_ . For the most part it was all the same as she’d saw before: sparse yellow plains that stretched into the horizon and rolling hills and towering mountains behind her. Oh it was all very beautiful, to be sure, though more in a I-would-much-rather-be-staring-at-this-on-a-postcard kind of way than a let’s-take-an-unexpected-half-naked-hike-through-the-mostly-grassy-wasteland kind of way. What she hadn’t noticed during her initial observation yesterday though, was that there was a splash of green near the base of the mountains. A forest perhaps? It was hard to tell, which meant it was probably _miles_ away.

Still…

Well, it wasn’t like she was going to find food out in _this_ wasteland. If there was anything edible nearby it had to be where green things were growing. Green was good…right? Alice’s stomach grumbled, as if in affirmation.

 _Towards the blurry green shape it is then_.

Except, as she soon discovered, it wasn’t _nearly_ that easy.

 _I’m never going to complain about walking in heels again._ Even high-heels would be preferable to walking across the open plan in what basically amounted to rags tied around her feet. Even with her tiptoeing across the ground like she was playing the-floor-is-lava, every step was met with a grimace as rocks poked against her soles and dry grass scratched at her bare legs. And that wasn’t the only problem…

It was _hot_.

The sun was high in the sky now and it had begun to beat upon her mercilessly. Her skin, though dark, was not impervious to sunlight (as a rather obnoxious girl in elementary school had once seemed to think) and Alice knew that soon she would be sporting a rather uncomfortable red hue to it in the foreseeable future. Miserably, she wiped at the sweat dripping into her eyes and scanned the hillside before her and then back to the stream she’d left behind. By her rough guesstimate…she’s only gotten about as far as the length of a football field…maybe even a football field _and a half_ …though perhaps that was too generous an estimate and she was only trying to make herself feel better.

Alice sighed despairingly _…This is going to take a while_.

**\---oo0oo---**

“Owowowowwwwwww!!”

Alice moaned, the sound of her voice closer to that of a wounded animal than anything she would normally recognize as her own. Her foot twitched as she poked as a particularly angry looking blister and she hissed through her teeth. She decided then and there that she _really_ hated walking. As soon as she got back home, she was going to invest in hover-chairs.

Gingerly, she stretched her legs out and looked out from her perch atop a rock embedded in the hillside, watching the sun sink ever eastward. She glanced north, towards the patch of green. She wasn’t quite sure it had gotten any bigger, but at least she couldn’t see her stream anymore (though there were a few more here at the base of the hills, trickling down from the mountains which at least meant she wouldn’t go thirsty) which meant Alice was most definitely farther than a football field and a half from where she started. _That_ was progress at least. Not that she would be moving any further today. Her feet _ached_ just at the mere _thought_ of any more walking. No, she was _definitely_ done for the day.

 _God_ , but she was _tired_ . Alice had never been a particularly athletic girl by _any_ stretch of the imagination, but she had always thought she wasn’t really _out_ of shape either. Guess this whole adventure cleared _that_ up. Sore and exhausted, she slid down the rock to curl up at its base and swiped irritably at the bugs attempting to nest in her hair. The grass made for a scratchy bed, though she imagined it was better than sleeping on the rock itself which at the moment was now serving as her only form of shelter against the howling wind.

In the distance, a very different kind of howling joined the sound of the wind whistling over her rock.

Alice froze, suddenly all too aware of her perilous position alone with only the stars for company. Seeking to distract herself from the thought of predators prowling in the night, she instead focused on the hollow pang in her stomach, letting it ground her. She hadn’t eaten in two days now. Grimly, she wondered if she would even _make_ it to the forest before she collapsed from exhaustion and malnutrition. Or perhaps the wolves would get her before then? Tear her limb from limb to feed their own hungry bellies?

A shiver of foreboding slithered up her spine at the thought.

Shaken, Alice studied the changing shade of the sky above, now a brilliant burnt orange color that was quickly fading into a deep indigo. She could already spy the stars peeking out, their light shining past the leftover haze left in the sun’s wake. As the last shred of daylight leeched from the sky she could only marvel as the Milky Way slowly came into full view. A dazzling riot of color and light unlike anything she had ever seen before, with its swirling nebulae and varied dappled stars crying out for her attention. Growing up under the smog of Boston, she'd only ever been able to glimpse the brightest of stars, enough to trace out the Big Dipper or Orion’s Belt but nothing like _this_. As she marveled though a queer feeling settled uncomfortably in her gut. It took Alice a while to figure out what unsettled her…and then it hit her.

The constellations were gone.

Well, not _gone_ , but definitely _wrong_. The Big Dipper was nowhere to be found, nor its smaller cousin, or Orion. Draco, Sagittarius, Hercules, she couldn't find any of them.

 _That's weird_.

Thoroughly disturbed, Alice slept little that night, dreaming of a picnic that never ended under a ever-changing sky.

**\---oo0oo---**

As it turned out, walking for hours on end was a rather boring experience. It was just her here after all and Alice had yet to see a single sign of civilization. For a while she tried reciting Shel Silverstein poems to herself. She wouldn’t dare touch anything darker than that lest she’d cause herself to spiral into hysterics again. Apparently though Shel Silverstein was a lot darker than she’d originally thought because…

“…Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too

Never returned to the world they knew,

And nobody knows what’s happened to

Dear Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.”

…On second thought…perhaps it was time for some tasteless pop music?

“I’m the operator, you can call anytime

I’ll be your connection to the party line.”

Ah. Much better.

And so her day went, interspersed with the occasional bad pop song to distract her from the slowly climbing temperature and the way her ruined t-shirt clung to her skin in the most uncomfortable manner. Alice was sure by now she smelled as awful as she probably looked. She particularly was glad she didn’t have a mirror or else she would be despairing over her hair right about now. Today of all days, she wished she’d taken more after her pale German mother and her side of the family rather than her dark American father. Perhaps then her hair wouldn’t be _nearly_ the matted mess as it most certainly _felt_ . She vowed that the moment she got home she was going to use an entire bottle of conditioner and de-tangler spray to salvage it. And then, if she was _really_ lucky, she _might_ not have to chop it all off.

Alice’s stomach interrupted her train of thought, reminding her of its ever-present emptiness. She was so _hungry_ . Unsuccessfully, she tried not to think about food…which meant it was _all_ she could think about. God, but she missed nachos. And cheesecake. And orange juice. And greasy Chinese food. And pancakes. And _definitely_ triple-chocolate cake. And while on the topic of things she missed, she also wanted some shoes. And some real clothes. And her cellphone. And indoor plumbing. And air-conditioning. And considering how awfully red her skin was getting a bottle of sunscreen wouldn’t hurt either.

Alice whispered these things to herself like a mantra as if conjuring them in her mind long enough would make them appear. Instead she found that she was still as dirty, half-naked, dehydrated and starving as she had been for the last three days.

She pressed on.

Later, sometime after she’d sang what had to have been her sixth Backstreet Boys song in a row, Alice finally saw _it_. Nestled down between the slopes of two hills and nearly hidden by several very large boulders…was a house.

A _house_.

“Oh my god!”

Though her feet were swollen and blistered and hurt more than she could even describe, Alice all but _ran_ down the hillside. If there was a house, then there would be _people_ , and if there were people they would have _food_ and a _phone_ . The mere thought made her heart _sing_. However, the closer she came to the little brown structure, the more she began to notice the things she had not been able to see before like the naked beams jutting into the sky or the half-collapsed wall hiding behind one of the boulders. Alice felt her hope die in her throat as swiftly as it had been born.

It was abandoned.

Devastated, Alice staggered to the bottom of the hill and tripped, falling to her knees near the base of a tree. A sob welled up out of her throat, unbidden. She tried to choke it back but it was too late and before long she was howling as loudly as the wind overhead. She wasn’t sure how long she cried for, but by the time she was able to bring her emotions back under control dusk had begun to set it. Wiping her nose with her arm, Alice lurched to her feet awkwardly and took a step…only for her toes to collide with something that was definitely _not_ a rock this time. She glanced down.

It was an apple.

At first Alice just stared at it rather stupidly. After a second though, realization dawned and her stomach twisted in recognition. She looked up. The branches of the tree above her bore the same familiar green-and-yellow fruit.

 _Food_.

With more fervor than she thought possible, Alice snatched the apple from the ground, lightning quick, and greedily bit into the green flesh, dirt and all. It was sour on her tongue and clearly still immature but in that moment it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted. In moments, it was gone and Alice eagerly reached for another still hanging on the bough.

Later, when her fingers and face were sticky with juice, Alice decided to explore. The house, as it turned out, was really more of a shack. The outside was overgrown and half of the roof was missing. Sadly there was little in the way to scavenge, just a plethora of broken pottery shards and some rotten burlap, though the promise of walls and a roof over her head more than made up for it. After the last several days it might has well have been a palace.

Alice was by no means a religious person but that night she thanked every higher power she could think of. Either someone (or something) was looking out for her or she was the luckiest unlucky idiot alive. And so with a full belly and walls to guard her against the elements, she fell asleep.

**\---oo0oo---**

It was still dark out when she heard it.

After three days alone with only the sound of her own voice to keep her company, the sound of _other_ voices was almost jarring. Nonetheless, when Alice heard the stamping of feet and the arguing of _people_ she was startled awake as if by the shot of a gun. She stiffened, sitting up confusedly, eyes blinking at the darkness. Voices rang out beyond the walls of the house, though they were too far away to make out. It was like trying to listen to someone else’s conversation from the other side of a gymnasium. Still… _people_ . There were _people_ here. Alice scrambled to her feet and made for the ruined doorway…

And that was when she noticed that she _wasn’t_ alone in the house.

Several figures stood silently in the shadows, all of them tensed, faces turned towards the commotion coming from outside. One of them glanced in Alice’s direction, as if she were a mild irritation. He made a motion with head and before she could make a sound, a hand darted out from behind her and _clamped over her mouth_.

Shocked, Alice didn’t even have time to struggle before she was spun around to face a tall man with eyes that seemed to glint in the dark. He pressed his finger to his lips in a gesture for her to be silent. Obediently, Alice bit her tongue.

What was going on? Who were these people?

A thousand questions swirled in Alice’s mind as her heart fluttered in her chest like a hummingbird. The man’s fingers still rested against her lips, as if to remind her of his silent warning. She stared up at him, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. His face was shadowed by the hood he wore but she could still make out the pale skin under it. He made a motion to one of the other people across the room and Alice couldn’t help herself flickering her eyes over towards them in response. There were five of them. One in each corner, all wearing the same hooded cloak as the man before her.

And they were all holding weapons.

Alice felt her heart stutter in her chest.

And then, like a frightened doe, she bolted from her captor’s grasp and out the doorway. A surprised noise came from her right, where the voices had been coming from, and Alice instinctively turned towards it…and froze.

There were several of them and even in the darkness, Alice could make out the ghastly grey skin that clung to their bones and the yellow eyes which hung in their sockets and glowed with a predatory sheen. And now every one of those eyes was directed at _her_. For a single moment, no one moved.

Alice took a step back.

And then one of the monsters _sneered_ . Alice was barely given time to process any of this before another grunted _and then charged her._ Terror filled her, seizing up her muscles and making movement or coherent thought impossible. The monster was close enough for her to see the sickly shade of its eyes as it swung a hideous-looking axe up, ready to bring it down onto her skull. Reflexively, Alice squeezed her eyes shut.

_Oh God! I’m going to die!_

The blow never came though. Instead, Alice heard a strange sound come from the creature and she opened her eyes just in time to see it crumple to the ground, an arrow lodged deep in its eye-socket. She stared. Unfortunately for her, the other creatures recovered from their shock faster than she did, charging towards her and shouting in a strange language.

Quite out of nowhere, a hand lodged itself between her shoulder blades and _shoved_. Hard. Alice didn’t even have time to catch herself before she went tumbling to the ground unceremoniously. Behind her, she could hear the shouts of men and the sickening sound of arrows burrowing their way into flesh. Mercifully, the battle was short-lived and the air went still and silent when the last body hit the ground. Alice’s heart thundered in her chest as she crawled to her hands and knees. A pair of boots appeared in front of her and Alice flinched. She hadn’t even heard them move. She looked up.

It was the man from the house.

He murmured something to her. Alice blinked in confusion. What was he _saying_? That didn’t sound like English…it didn’t sound like German either. Oblivious to her linguistic crisis, the man grasped ahold of Alice’s arm and forcefully pulled her to her feet. Her head spun. The man spoke to her again.

He sounded angry.

“Please,” Alice whispered, miserable and shivering with fear. “I just want to go home.”

The man said something else, this time shaking her shoulder as if to punctuate some point. She felt her throat tighten. In fact…it tightened almost as if…

 _Oh noooooooooo_ -

It was last thing Alice thought before she hunched over and _vomited all over the man’s boots_. She didn’t even get to see his reaction before darkness swallowed her vision and she collapsed.

**\---oo0oo---**

It was a strange feeling to wake up in a bed after having slept on the ground for days, almost like a dream itself.

Alice sat up, blinking against the bright light assaulting her senses.

“Ugh…what…where…?”

Her first thought was that she’d been dropped into a very unorthodox open-air infirmary. Well…perhaps a fantasy movie’s _interpretation_ of one. It was very…earthy. And clean. The room was circular, with seven beds lined up against the pale stone walls in a star-like shape, and glassless windows facing the aisles in between them. She’d certainly never seen an infirmary quite like _this_ before.

Alice’s second thought, as she looked down at herself, was…

“Where are my clothes?”

In place of her soiled t-shirt and underwear was what could be only be described as a _very_ old-fashioned white nightgown. It even had the _billowy sleeves_ . In what particular hell had she woken up that she’d been forced into a nightgown even her _grandmother_ wouldn’t have been caught dead in?

_What happened? How did I get here?_

Alice wracked her brain, recalling all too well her disastrous journey out in the middle of nowhere. Then there had been a house…and then…monsters? A shiver crawled up her spine. The image of iridescent yellow eyes flashing in the dark burned in her memory like a particularly unpleasant afterimage behind her eyelids.

A voice rang out jarring Alice from her thoughts, her head snapping up so quickly she heard her neck crack. A woman stood at the foot of her bed. And yet…she was like the final photoshopped version of a woman on a magazine cover. Her pale skin was too smooth, too flawless, and her hair shimmered in the light like pale gold. When the lady smiled, Alice could only notice her unnaturally perfect white teeth.

For the first time in a long time, Alice felt incredibly self-conscious. Though she’d never been unattractive, and she had always had _more_ than enough self-confidence to fall back on, there was no way on Heaven or Earth she could possibly compare with… _that_.

“Ummm…hi?” she stammered out, more than a little awe-struck.

The lady stood quietly for a moment, tilting her head just a fraction to the left like a cat who’d come across something peculiar. And then she opened her mouth… _and nonsense came out_ . Oh it was _beautiful_ nonsense, to be sure, but completely incomprehensible nonetheless.

Alice groaned. Perhaps that whole fiasco with that strange man really _did_ happen…

" _Ich bin Alice_?" she tried halfheartedly. The woman stared at her politely, though uncomprehendingly. Well, that was a 'no' then.

" _Hola ¿cómo estás?_ " Okay, also no.

" _Parlez-vous français?_ " Well French was out then.

" _Nǐ hǎo?_ "...Well to be fair she didn’t look like she was Chinese anyway.

Each language was met with an equally kind, but oblivious stare. Alice switched back to English, "America? U.S.A.? Obama? Disneyland? Hollywood? Umm…Britney Spears? No, nothing?" Defeated, Alice flopped down onto the nearest bed with a huff.

Well _this_ was _definitely_ going to be a problem.

**\---oo0oo---**

She’d been stuck in this room for days and frankly it was starting to drive her a little crazy.

Oh she was well taken care of, that was indisputable. Meals were brought three times a day and several people routinely came in to check on her to make sure she hadn’t died overnight. For the most part though...she was bored.  And very, _very_ confused.

Where was she? She wasn’t really allowed outside of the infirmary (someone would magically appear to herd her back inside every time she so much as _thought_ of taking a peek beyond her door) and her inability to communicate with anyone outside of flailing her arms around left her thoroughly frustrated and just as ignorant as she’d been at the start of the interaction. Well, on the bright side, the food was _fantastic_. And after her hellish few days out in the wild, Alice was more than happy to gorge herself on the meals put before her.

And such meals they were! Warm crusty bread and soft cheeses, succulent peaches and crisp apples, soft boiled eggs and thick sweet stew, and always a mug of hot mint tea to wash it all down. It was a vast step up from sour apples and water from a suspicious stream that was for _damn_ sure.

Still...she could _really_ go for something chocolate.

In fact, Alice had been having a lot of cravings for food back home recently. Like cheesecake...and avocados...and mango smoothies. Once she’d even woken up randomly in the middle of the night with a fierce longing for ice-cream. Not that she’d seen any. As far as she knew this place didn’t have refrigeration. They certainly didn’t seem to have _electricity_ . Instead of light bulbs in her room she was brought a candle every night. A _candle_! Who were these people? Some weird supermodel sect of the Amish?

_Maybe they’re hoping to bring you into their creepy cult as new blood? Why else would they refuse to let you leave?_

...Perhaps she needed to start working on her escape plan. Which is exactly what Alice had been busy contemplating one especially cheery (and boring) afternoon when _she_ finally showed up.

The moment she swept into the infirmary, Alice felt like she’d been knocked upside the head. It was like meeting one of those flawless celebrities...only to find out they were even _more_ attractive in person. Except this lady seemed more like something out of a dream than a television screen. She was too ethereal, too _divine_. When the woman had moved to sit on the bed next to Alice’s own, she could only stare, dumbstruck. There was a beat of awkward silence, and then...

“Hi,” Alice wanted to slap herself the moment the word came out of her mouth. If the lady was anything like the other people she had come into contact with the last few days, then she probably would’ve been able to understand that about as well as they had.

The lady only smiled in reply though, responding in that lovely (yet still incomprehensible) language of hers.

“I’m just going to assume that means you don’t know English then?”

The lady smiled kindly. Alice took that as a ‘no’. And then...she held out her hand. It was smooth and unblemished, with perfectly manicured nails and unadorned but for a single silver ring. Alice couldn’t help herself, she stared. Did...did she want her to shake it? Awkwardly, the girl took ahold of the lady’s hand and shook it once.

The lady laughed, clearly amused.

Embarrassed, Alice made as if to pull away but the beautiful woman gripped her hand in her own and covered it with her other. She stared, entranced by a shaft of sunlight that hit their joined hands, making the ring on the lady’s finger almost seem to _glow_.

And that was when things got _really_ weird.

At first she didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. Out the window, she could hear the birds sing to each other and her mind slowly began to wander, daydreaming…she thought about her home in Boston, the busy streets and vibrant old brownstones...and then suddenly she was recalling a visit to Paris with her mother when she was eleven and just how _tall_ the Eiffel Tower had seemed at that age...and then abruptly she remembered waking up in the endless sea of rolling grass not long ago, and how terrified and baffled she had been. One by one memories flittered to the forefront of her mind, only to be replaced by others, her whole life flipped through like the pages of a book.

Except... _she_ hadn’t called upon any of those memories.

Thoroughly spooked, Alice darted her eyes around, attempting to regain control of her train of thought, until they settled back onto the ring on the lady’s finger. There was something strange about that ring...something... _familiar_ . Unbidden, a disjointed scene played in her head of yet _another_ ring and the little hobbit who had offered it to _another_ unearthly lady in white…

The woman dropped Alice’s hand as if she had been electrocuted.

And just like that it was like a light had been switched off. Alice suddenly slumped forward like puppet whose strings had been cut. She was clutching at her head when the lady stood. Her vision was still hazy at the edges and it made the bottom of the woman’s dress seem shift about her legs like smoke. Alice tilted her head up to look at her fully, utterly bewildered.

“I don’t understand.”

The lady didn’t speak, only looked down upon her with the strangest look; both weary and perplexed. Well if _anyone_ had a right to be weary it was Alice. She tried again, “Who are you?”

The lady said only one word.

“ _Galadriel_.”

For a moment Alice didn’t quite know how that answered her question and was about to ask again...when it all _finally_ clicked into place. Suddenly she realized what it was she’d failed to see before.

And her eyes were _opened_.

And her world was shattered.

**\---oo0oo---**

Somewhere on high, the Powers That Be were laughing their celestial asses off.

Alice didn’t even have it in her anymore to blame them. Her whole situation had passed ridiculous over a week ago... _and then some_ . On the bright side no one had come to bother her since her disastrous meeting with...Galadriel (God, it was even weird just _thinking_ it). And perhaps that was for the best. Alice wouldn’t have wanted to see herself right now either.

That night, she curled up beneath the window next to her bed and went over theories as to how exactly she had gotten herself into this mess. For a while she toyed with the ‘maybe it’s all a dream’ idea before eventually discarding it altogether. She _knew_ what her dreams felt like...and this was _definitely_ not anything like those. If anything it seemed more like something her friend’s boyfriend, Sebastian, would fantasize about. _He_ was the Tolkien nerd. Alice had only ever seen the movies...and that was _years_ ago. Then again, this was all assuming that this also wasn’t one of those weird fanfiction stories her friend Rachel was into.

If this was the gods’ idea of a joke, Alice didn’t find it very funny.

When one of her caretakers finally came in with her breakfast the following morning, Alice saw her with fresh eyes. And elf. She was an _elf_ . They were _all_ elves. The monsters from before, Galadriel, and now _these_ people...all the pieces fell into place too neatly for her to ignore.

So then...suppose this _was_ all real (a frightening prospect indeed)...how did she get here? Better yet, _why_ was she here? What use was a 19-year old girl in a place like this? As she’d so adequately displayed her first few days out in the wild, she had no real survival skills to speak of. If she hadn’t run into that house out in the hills, she most certainly would’ve starved to death. She knew nothing of the local language nor did she know how to swing a sword or cast magic spells or whatever it was people around here did. Certainly a Navy Seal would’ve been a more intelligent choice to drop in Middle Earth. At least they were trained to deal with weird situations...well...maybe not _this_ weird.

“I suppose _you_ wouldn’t have any idea why I’m here?” Alice asked rhetorically, giving the elf setting her breakfast tray down a skeptical look. Unsurprisingly, she just smiled politely, though uncomprehendingly.

Alice sighed. “Of course not.”

She tore off a chunk of bread from the spread before her. She was really going to have to do something about this language barrier thing…

Wait...she _could_ do something about that!

The elf was turning to leave when Alice hastily called her back. She glided over, staring at the girl quizzically. Alice glanced about frantically before settling upon the chair at the end of her bed. Slowly, she pointed, hoping her meaning was clear. “Chair.” Mercifully, the elf was quick on the uptake.

“ _Ham_.”

Finally, _now_ she was getting somewhere. Excitedly, Alice patted her sheets. “Bed.”

“ _Haust_.”

Alice smiled for the first time in days. She pressed both hands to her heart.

“Alice.”

The elf smiled, mimicking the gesture. “ _Faendis_.”

And thus Alice began her Sindarin lessons.

**\---oo0oo---**

Of course, it was just after she had begun to regain some semblance of control over her life again that the final blow came to knock it all down again.

Several days later, in the dead of night, Alice was awoken by the tell-tale churning of her stomach and barely made it to the chamber pot under her bed before she violently vomited up her dinner. The more mortifying experience by far though, had been when she had been forced to show Faendis its contents the following morning. However, dear sweet Faendis either had a remarkably impeccable poker face or was genuinely unfazed by the matter for she had whisked away the bowl afterwards without so much as a wrinkled nose. Regardless, Alice had thought that had been the end of it.

She was wrong of course.

At first she hadn’t noticed that anything had changed. But then one afternoon she would find that she really didn’t have the energy for anything outside of curling in her bed and sleeping away the day like a cat. And then there was the continued bouts of nausea and her weird cravings afterward. She felt...off. Like she wasn’t herself. And then, one day, Alice realized that she had missed her period. Unsurprisingly, she reacted to this realization the same way any woman would in her situation.

She panicked.

Alice frantically tried to recall all she could remember of her drunken birthday the month before. Vaguely, she remembered the blonde boy who had charmed his way between her legs...what had been his name? Better yet, _had they used a condom_ ? How could she not remember something so _important_ ?! She _couldn’t_ be pregnant...could she?

“I’m not pregnant,” She whispered to herself. “I’m not.”

Unfortunately, Alice had never been good at lying to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! You're pregnant! You thought showing up in Middle Earth was bad? How about a side of parenthood to top things off? I'm starting to think I enjoy torturing Alice. Maybe just a little bit. 
> 
> Trust me, it only gets more complicated from here. 
> 
> Chapter Timeframe: June 12, 2998 T.A. - June 26, 2998 T.A. 
> 
> Today in "Middle Earthean History, Culture, and Geography Notes AKA Stuff I Feel Like Talking About":  
> \--> Alice goes to sleep in Munich, Germany on June 12th, 2008 A.D. and wakes up in Middle Earth near the Field of Celebrant (which is located between the rivers Anduin and Limlight just southeast of Lothlórien) on June 12th, 2998 T.A. (Third Age).  
> \--> This fic subscribes to the Middle Earth = Ancient Europe theory. As such Alice is some 6,000 to 7,000 years before her own time period. This explains why she showed up around the Field of Celebrant so close to Lothlórien because that is where Munich will one day stand. This also explains why the constellations she’s familiar with are not visible. The Earth is tilted in a different direction from what she’s used to and so really Alice is just viewing a section of the sky she’s never seen before.  
> \--> Yes, the Alice in Wonderland references were intentional. Keep a look out for those because they won’t be stopping anytime soon. I did name our protagonist after the book character after all.  
> \--> The poem Alice recites is Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too by Shel Silverstein (which holds an incredibly special place in my heart), the ‘tasteless pop songs’ she sings are Get The Party Started by P!nk and several Backstreet Boys songs (including but not limited to Everybody and I Want It That Way).  
> \--> Westron is not English, neither is Sindarin or the Black Speech. Therefore there should be no reason why Alice would be able to understand anyone (or vise versa) after first arriving in Middle Earth. She’s going to have to learn the local languages the same way everyone else does...the hard way.  
> \--> Yes, Galadriel can read minds. It’s implied in the books (and downright shoved down our throats in the movies) so I ran with it. As such, she used her mind-hacking-skillz to take a poke around Alice’s head to see what was up...and saw just a bit more than she was expecting. Remember this. It will come into play later.  
> \--> Sebastian, the Tolkien Nerd...remember him...because reasons.  
> \--> I had to throw in the “this was all assuming that this also wasn’t one of those weird fanfiction stories her friend Rachel was into” line. Because I’m hilarious. Ha ha. Also ‘Rachel’ is totally the name of one of my best friends from High School who also happens to love fanfiction. Coincidence? I think not.  
> \--> Alice is roughly 6-7 weeks pregnant by the end of this chapter. She conceived on her birthday, May 7th, 2008.


	2. In Which Much is Lost in Translation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Celírion is like, "Ohmygod I've never seen one of these before!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now from Celírion’s point-of-view. I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to get his perspective right so please let me know if you think I pulled it off or not. I’d love to hear your thoughts on the matter. 
> 
> Edit: I’m sorry this rewrite took so long. I’ve had horrific shoulder pain lately and all of my free time has been spent going to doctors, chiropractors, and massage therapists trying desperately to fix/ease it. Writing ceases to be fun when you’re in pain all the time. :(
> 
> Edit Part Deux: I added a title card with a bunch of elf portraits. You're welcome.

 "The flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long." - _Lao Tzu_

* * *

**Lothlórien, 2998 of the Third Age**

Celírion had never seen _anything_ like her.

He hadn’t been there when Ruinthir and his scouts had brought her into the city, he himself having been away with his fellow wardens out in the borderlands, but he’d certainly heard the gossip upon his return. The moment he stepped back into Caras Galadhon, he had heard tales of the strange mortal woman who had taken up residence there. They said she spoke in a queer tongue, one that was neither Sindarin nor Westron, and that she had arrived half-starved and nearly _nude_ like a savage. It seemed the more Celírion heard of her the taller and more fantastical the tales became. Which is why it came as a shock to finally see the object of such tales in the flesh.

She was _fascinating_.

She reminded him of a doe; skittish and wide-eyed, her skin the same bronze-brown shade as a deer’s pelt. Though with the way she stumbled around on those spindly legs of hers, Celírion thought she might’ve made a better fawn than a doe. And that hair! It was like sheep’s wool! More than once he caught himself wondering if it was as soft as it looked…And yet, there was something… _else_ . Something that drew him to her like a moth to candle flame. _Something_ …

“This is the first time you have glimpsed one of the secondborn.”

A familiar blonde head appeared at his side. Celírion colored slightly, realizing he’d been caught spying. He lowered his eyes, murmuring a hasty, “Lothlaer,” before unconsciously glancing back up at the pair seated by the pond. Faendis gestured encouragingly at the girl before her, clearly attempting to teach her Sindarin.

“She is so very bright, that one,” Lothlaer said, eyes joining Celírion’s upon the pair. “Too bright.”

At first Celírion did not know what it was that she meant. Surely she was mistaken? The girl was _dark_ , not bright…but then he _saw_ . And just like that, he couldn’t look at her _without_ seeing it. There was a _glow_ that pulsed just underneath her skin, a _light_. It was as if her heart had been replaced with a miniature sun and her veins flowed with sunshine.

“She is mortal,” Lothlaer explained. “And mortal spirits burn brightly.” Her voice turned pitying then, and Celírion couldn’t help but peer over at her curiously.

“I do not understand.”

“It is why men die so soon. The brighter the flame…the faster it burns out.”

Lothlaer left then, leaving the ellon to ponder over her words as he watched Faendis and her charge make their way back to the Hall of Rest. Her words made some measure of sense of course. Edhil fae, while bright, were more akin to the soft light of the stars; muted but eternal. _This_ girl’s fae though...it was like the _sun_ . And like the sun, she _burned_.

Yes, she was most _definitely_ fascinating, but Celírion was ever the curious creature and he was hungry to learn _more_ . And so he watched her disappear back inside and wondered…and _wanted_.

**\---oo0oo---**

Celírion was positively _humming_ with excitement.

They had been tasked by the Lord Celeborn with ridding the western edge of the wood of any and all goblins and orcs, both of which had become increasingly bold as of late. With the shelter of the shadows and caves of Hithaeglir just beyond the boundaries of the Golden Wood, they were able to easily wreak havoc upon the land at night and slink back into their murky dens before daybreak. And even with the cloak of Lady Galadriel's magic to keep them at bay, they had become exceedingly troublesome and their taint upon the area was reason enough to see that they were forcefully removed.

“When do we strike?” It was not the first time Celírion had asked.

Dúrferil gave him a withering look...It was not the first time she had given him that look either.

“When I say it is time,” she responded, pursing her lips. “And not a moment before.”

Dúrferil was a a deceiving leader. She was as slight and delicate as a reed and as beautiful as any of the firstborn, but she was also the most ruthless and savage warrior he knew and she was not likely to let their quarry leave unscathed.

 _Or alive_ , he thought grimly.

Dutifully, Celírion fell quiet once more and glanced down from his perch in the trees. They were all well-hidden up here. Now it was only a matter of waiting until their quarry appeared. Thankfully, they wouldn’t be waiting much longer. The sun had already long set and Celírion watched as the day slowly morphed into night with a restless sort of interest.

 _Soon_.

They heard them _long_ before they saw them.

They made a _tremendous_ amount of noise. As he knocked his arrow into place, Celírion wondered if such creatures even knew _how_ to be quiet. On the branch above him he felt Aegol tense as the commotion drew closer. No one made a sound as everyone waited for Dúrferil’s signal. When the creatures finally did come into sight, they crashed through the undergrowth like frightened animals, grunting at one another in that ill-sounding speech of theirs. It was when they reached just under the patrol’s hiding place that Dúrferil finally let her arrow fly. Her target toppled to the ground.

And then pandemonium ensued.

The creatures let out a foul cry of alarm as Celírion’s companions fell upon them one by one. While he himself stayed in the trees, picking away at his targets from above, Dúrferil dropped to the ground, pulling her sword from its sheath just in time to bury it in an unsuspecting goblin’s skull. She was _magnificent_ , slashing and dodging and stabbing at her enemies like some sort gruesome dance. Above, Aegol loosed an arrow into one of the goblins eluding Dúrferil’s sword. Celírion glanced up at his friend to grin at him…only for his blood to run cold as he caught sight of him just in time to watch an enemy arrow lodge itself into his shoulder and cause Aegol to stumble…

And fall out of the tree.

Celírion didn’t think as he dove after his friend. He swung from the bough and landed on the ground, _hard_ , before immediately finding himself fending off enemies on either side. He smashed his bow across the face of one and unsheathed his dagger only to plunge it into the throat of another. Several paces away, he saw Aegol’s crumpled form _shudder_. Relief flooded his features. He was alive then. Forcefully, Celírion shoved the last of his attackers away and swiftly moved to his friend’s side.

“Serves you right for not watching your left.” Celírion chastised as he examined the arrow still protruding from the other edhel’s shoulder. It was buried deep and they would need to wait until they could get him to safety before they could even consider pulling it free.

Aegol grimaced. “You worry like my mother.”

“Well someone needs to keep an eye on you for her.”

“Celírion!” Aegol cried out suddenly and Celírion whipped his head around just in time to catch sight of the orc behind him before the creature slashed _deep_ into his arm. He hissed, feeling the foul weapon hit _bone_. Before he could retaliate however, a familiar silver blade suddenly jutted out of the the creature’s chest before disappearing again as it slid out from the other side. The orc collapsed in a heap, revealing Dúrferil who kicked the corpse aside with a scowl.

“I thought I told you to stay in the trees.”

Celírion didn’t reply and the elleth crouched down to examine his wound. She untied the sash at her waist and deftly wrapped it around his arm to staunch the bleeding. Beyond he heard the dying moans of the creatures around them. The battle was over.

Dúrferil finished tying the ends of the sash tightly enough to make Celírion wince. She scoffed. “You will live.”

Another edhel appeared, dropping from the trees to assist Aegol and Celírion breathed a sigh of relief when he recognized the pale blonde head of Aphadon, their healer. He shifted aside to let him see to his friend but Dúrferil clicked her tongue at him when he attempted to rise.

“No. Aphadon will see to you both and then we must leave.” Her eyes shifted, surveying the bodies strewn about them critically. “Leave the dead for the crows.”

A wolf howled in the distance. Dúrferil grinned menacingly before adding, “And for the wolves.”

**\---oo0oo---**

Due to the wounds taken on their mission, both Celírion and Aegol were confined to Caras Galadhon while they healed. Neither minded overly much, but it was obvious to all that Aegol, more so than his companion, missed the whisper of the trees and the solitude of the outer wood. Celírion on the other hand, was eager to catch a closer glimpse of the human girl in the Hall of Rest now that he had a proper excuse to be there. However, upon his arrival, he found the place to be vacant.

“The Lord and Lady had her moved when Brandir and Tinuthel offered to care for her,” Faendis explained when he had asked where the girl had gone. “In light of her current condition it seemed the best decision.”

Celírion blinked. “Her _condition_?”

“She is with child.”

“…Since _when_?”

Faendis gave him an amused look. “Since before she came here I imagine.”

Celírion’s curiosity grew tenfold.

He didn’t see her at first. According to Tinuthel she had holed herself up in her new room immediately upon moving in with she and Brandir. Celírion couldn’t fathom why she was so frightened of everyone. If anything her newfound pregnancy seemed to have softened his people’s concern for her even more. If the edhil loved one thing more than any other in this world, it was children. But for the moment, the girl seemed stubbornly bent on hiding away and so Celírion kept his distance. After all, if she truly were a doe, the last thing he would want to do was startle her.

For the most part, his days in the city were slow and peaceful. His mother did her best to fuss over him and his father brought him news from the other march-wardens out at the border. And then, one day, a letter from his sister arrived.

Due to the ties between Imladris and Lothlórien messengers were periodically sent over the mountains to ferry letters between friends and kin. And so when this particular messenger arrived Celírion was one of the many people to accost him in the hopes of receiving a correspondence from a loved one. As it happened, this time he had one for him.

“Your sister sends her regards.” The messenger handed over a little stack of letters tied neatly together with a length of twine. Celírion thanked the ellon, handling the parchment as if it were gold, and then hastily made his escape from the steadily growing crowd.

At the bank of a stream, he settled down and attempted to rip away the twine, an endeavor that proved to be far more difficult with one of his arms in a sling. Eventually though, Celírion was able to pull the heavy string free and flatten out the letter addressed to him.

_My Dearest Brother,_

_I hope you are well. As always life in Imladris proves to be far more busy than fair Lothlórien. Túrgil is kept busy with his work though I do not mind overmuch. He has begun work on the Lady Arwen’s rooms and hopes to have the mural finished before her return. How is she? The twins miss her. They pretend they are unbothered but I know better. They always mope when she is not around._

_Two visitors arrived in Imladris a fortnight ago, Lewsindë and Ilvanandil. Ilvanandil is a Vanya from Valinor. He looks like Glorfindel though far more dour and serious. I think I prefer Glorfindel. He makes me laugh. Lewsindë is one of the secondborn though she is not at all like any of the edain I have met. She is…very strange. Sometimes I think I can see the same light in her eyes as Glorfindel’s or Ilvanandil’s. But…that cannot be right. Perhaps she has just spent too much time around that Vanya? Thankfully though, she is not nearly as humorless as her companion. In fact, she is very kind. She gave me a pearl from Mithlond. It is blue. I did not even know there were blue pearls._

_But enough of me, how are you faring? Did you ever catch that hart you spoke of the last time you wrote me? How are mother and father? Lindir has been asking after mother. He says the Hall of Fire is not the same without her voice to fill it in the evening. I think he is right. Perhaps you might be able to visit soon? Or Túrgil and I could visit you? I do so miss you all. It has been too long since your last visit._

_As always, I send my love._

_Gwalothiel_

Celírion smoothed his fingers over his sister’s name, easily envisioning her signing the parchment with an elegant twist of her wrist.

She had met an artist visiting from Imladris when he was still a child and they had married less than a century ago. Afterwards she had moved away with him back to Imladris and at the time Celírion had felt like a piece of his fae had gone with her. He could still feel her there at his core, a quiet glow like that of an ember in a hearth.

 _I miss you too dear sister._ He thought. _Very much._

**\---oo0oo---**

She was…she was _outside_.

Celírion blinked owlishly, not quite believing the sight before him. It had been weeks since the girl had locked herself away in her proverbial tower and no one had seen neither hide nor hair of her since. And yet here she was, hanging laundry with Tinuthel by the pond.

Should...should he say something? Would she even understand him if he did? Then again, it would be rude _not_ to say anything. Perhaps…

It was Tinuthel who saved him from his internal dilemma.

“Celírion,” She called, easily spotting him as he loitered nearby. “Be a dear and help us hang these.”

Ever the dutiful one, Celírion jumped to assist her. She handed him a damp wad of linen and he tried his best not to stare as the girl by her side peered over at him curiously.

“She is not going to bite you.” Tinuthel exclaimed, her eyes focused on the dress she was hanging up on the line.

He ducked his head, embarrassed. “I did not think she would.”

The elleth laughed before glancing between the human girl on her right and the awkward ellon on her left. “Introduce yourself. She may not understand everything you say but she has learned that much.”

Celírion’s hand dropped from the line, the sheet he had hung askew. Tinuthel fixed it for him as he turned towards the girl on the other side of her. He bowed formally, his uninjured hand at his breast.

“I am Celírion.”

The girl tilted her head to the side like a cat, her eyes squinting strangely, as if attempting to solve a particularly difficult puzzle. Then…

“Me...Alice.” She copied his gesture, placing her palm upon her breast and Celírion admired the contrast her skin made against the bright green color of her dress.

“Al...eese?” He tasted the strange name on his tongue.

Alice scowled, her ire raised. Celírion decided then that she didn’t remind him of a doe at all. Clearly, she was _much_ closer to a _badger_.

"Al- _iss_ ," she corrected, exaggerating the last syllable and hissing through her teeth like a snake.

"Al…iss."

She smiled then and Celírion marveled over the way her entire demeanor brightened. He could almost feel the light that radiated from within her. He couldn’t help himself.

He smiled back.

**\---oo0oo---**

Celírion returned to his duties less than a sennight later. He was glad to be back under the trees again, and his friends were happy to welcome him back amongst their number once more.

“It has been quiet since you left,” teased his friend Rhovangur. “We all thought the enemy must have followed you home!”

Celírion grinned good-naturedly. “If they _had_ then you must not have done your job correctly.”

They were camped out in the trees on one of the many open-air platforms strewn throughout the forest for warden use. They were nothing like the elaborate dwellings back in Caras Galadhon but they had room enough for a group to eat and rest after the watch rotation. Mostly though, the wardens just used them to gather and gossip.

“So what of this girl I hear who was brought to Caras Galadhon?” Gladhron asked as he carefully oiled his bow. Unlike Celírion he had not been back to the city in months.

“She is…” Celírion trailed off, trying to find the right word. “Peculiar.”

Off at the edge of the platform, Ruinthir snorted. Another ellon noticed and remarked, almost slyly, “It was _you_ who found the girl, was it not Ruinthir? What was she like?”

Ruinthir grimaced. “Indeed. And what a nuisance she was!”

Celírion peered at his superior curiously. So far everyone he’d met who had come into contact with Alice had only kind or sympathetic things to say about her. As such, he was almost startled by the clear distaste in the elder ellon’s voice.

“How so?”

“She ran about like a frightened rabbit and alerted our quarry,” Ruinthir’s fair face crinkled with disdain. “She nearly ruined our ambush!”

Celírion hastily tried to jump to Alice’s defense. “Surely you could not have expected any different? Orcs are foul creatures. I am sure she _was_ frightened.”

“Pay him no heed Celírion. Dear Ruinthir is just bitter because the girl vomited all over his favorite boots!” One warden remarked with a wry twist to his lips. Several wardens burst into laughter at this.

“It took him a sennight to wash to the stink out!” Another edhel chimed in joyfully, inducing another round of laughter.

Ruinthir’s mouth set into a grim line and he stood suddenly, moving towards the rope ladder coiled off to the side. Without a word, he nudged the mound of rope off the edge of the platform and watched it slither into the darkness, unraveling like the coils of a snake. And then, silently, he climbed down the ladder and out of sight.

Celírion suddenly felt very foolish and ashamed.

“I will go with him,” he declared and before anyone could protest, he clambered down the ladder after his superior.

It took only a moment to catch up with the other ellon, but he was slow to approach him, sensing Ruinthir’s dark mood as his fae simmered angrily under his skin. It was a long time before either of them spoke.

“They were cruel to you.”

Ruinthir didn’t turn, his head twisted up and away towards the starlight peaking through the trees. “They only spoke the truth.”

“And yet they did not need to be so callous about it,” Celírion said earnestly.

He turned then, the gray-blue of his eyes shining brighter than usual, evidence of the flickering spirit behind them, before they dimmed once more. Ruinthir sighed. “I do not fault the child, though I was certainly not impressed with her either.”

Celírion was silent for a moment, and then, “She told me her name was Alice.”

“Oh? Does she speak now?”

“Not well,” he replied with a small smile. It fell though and morphed into curiosity when he add, “I have never heard such a name before.”

Ruinthir hesitated a moment before saying, “Nor have I.”

“Where do you suppose she came from?”

Ruinthir was quiet at first, almost introspective. Celírion stared up at the stars and listened to the breeze rustle the leaves overhead as he waited for the other ellon to speak.

“I have only seen people of her like once,” he began slowly. “Long before The Deceiver ever came forth to ravage the land, before the Alliance, I traveled far to the south with my father. We came to the mouth of the Anduin until all that could be seen was the endless blue sea beyond, and on our way there we stopped at the a mannish port. There were traders there, men that came from even further south. They had skin as dark as night and strange hair. I had never seen anyone like them before.”

“So you believe that she came from the south?”

“Wherever she came from, it was not from here.” Ruinthir looked away, head turned southwards. “She is from lands far beyond our own, of that we can be certain.” He stared into the distance some more before finally turning back to the younger warden and added, “Go back to the others.” It wasn’t a request.

Celírion obeyed, turning away from the elder edhel to rejoin his friends, but not before he saw Ruinthir stare longingly into the south once more, his eyes full of memories unseen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a pain in the ass to write. Ugh. As Alice would say, fucking elves man! I promise the third chapter will come sooner. Most of it is written already and Alice’s head is much easier to get into than Celírion’s. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts. :)
> 
> Chapter Timeframe: June 29, 2998 T.A. - July 22, 2998 T.A. 
> 
> Today in "Middle Earthean History, Culture, and Geography Notes AKA Stuff I Feel Like Talking About":  
> \--> In my own personal headcanon, the spirits of men shine like flames whereas the spirits of elves shine more like starlight. Elves (and some humans) can see the souls of the Children of Ilúvatar and since Celírion has never seen the soul of a human before he ends up being completely dazzled by Alice’s. To be clear though, Alice’s soul isn’t necessarily brighter or even particularly special compared to any other human’s, she’s just the first one Celírion has come into contact with.  
> \--> Firstborn and Secondborn are one of the many names the elves gave to both themselves and the race of men. The elves call themselves the Firstborn because they were the first of the Children of Ilúvatar to awaken in the world, thousands of years before humankind. When men finally showed up in Beleriand many elves dubbed them the Secondborn (for obvious reasons) and the name stuck.  
> \--> Hithaeglir is the Sindarin name for the Misty Mountains.  
> \--> Fae is Sindarin for ‘soul’ or ‘spirit’. Edhel is the Sindarin word for ‘elf’ while Edhil is its plural form, meaning ‘elves’. Ellon is the Sindarin word for an elven male and elleth is the word for an elven female.  
> \--> Edain is the name given to the descendents of the Numenoreans (a.k.a the Men of the West) by the elves.  
> \--> Gee, I wonder who this Lewsindë person could be? This is the part where I tell you to start reading The Road Goes Ever On. Trust me. It’ll all start making sense soon. Needless to say this is definitely not the last we’ll be seeing of either Lewsindë or Ilvanandil.  
> \--> The light Gwalothiel mentions seeing in Glorfindel, Lewsindë, and Ilvanandil’s eyes is the light of the Two Trees of Valinor. Only those elves born during the Years of the Trees in Valinor have a leftover ‘memory’ of the light from Laurelin and Telperion shining in their eyes. Elves like Galadriel and Glorfindel have it, but elves like Elrond and Legolas (who were born in Middle Earth) do not.  
> \--> Alice has learned a little Sindarin by the end of this chapter though not nearly as much as Celírion might like her to. It’s only been a month or so. Give it time.  
> \--> Just so you know, a fortnight is two weeks and a sennight is one week.  
> \--> I shamelessly title-dropped at the end. Sorrynotsorry.
> 
> Sindarin Names and Their Meanings/Pronunciations  
> Celírion - Brilliant Son (kell-ear-ee-on)  
> Ruinthir - Fiery Expression (roo-in-theer)  
> Lothlaer - Snow Song (lawth-lie-er)  
> Dúrferil - Dark Hunter (dew-feh-reel)  
> Aegol - Bird Cloak (ay-gull)  
> Aphadon - Follower (aff-uh-dawn)  
> Brandir - Noble Male (bran-deer)  
> Tinuthel - Star Sister (tin-oo-thell)  
> Gwalothiel - Blossom Daughter (gwaw-lawth-ee-ell)  
> Lewsindë - Lucinda (loo-sin-day) [Pseudo-Quenya]  
> Ilvanandil - Perfect Servant (ill-vawn-on-deel) [Quenya]  
> Rhovangur - Wild Heart (row-vawn-goor)  
> Gladhron - Laughter (glad-hrawn)


	3. Alice in Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alice makes new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know this took forever. I got distracted and that last half of the chapter was giving me loads of trouble but it’s finally done and now I can move onto the next one. Hallelujah!
> 
> Rule Number One of writing about food: Never write about food when you’re hungry. It’ll only make you more hungry. I found this out the hard way. 
> 
> And now, back to our regularly scheduled Alice POV. Just a heads up, English dialogue is normal while Sindarin dialogue is italicized. 
> 
> Edit: We’re getting closer now. Only a couple more chapters to go and then we’ll be right where we originally left off (and then, brand new never-before seen plot! Hurray!!). Remember, odd-numbered chapters are always from Alice’s POV and even-numbered ones are from Celírion’s, which means the next chapter after this will be following Celírion again.
> 
> Edit Part Deux: The picture below is of Arwen. You know, how I envision her anyway. Since she's featured in this chapter I decided to give drawing her a go and then thought she'd make a pretty title card. I mean come on...it's ARWEN.

"Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see." - _Mark Twain_

* * *

  **Lothlórien, 2998 of the Third Age**

Pregnancy, Alice decided, was a real drag. When she wasn’t vomiting up her breakfast in the mornings, she was fantasizing about all the foods currently unavailable to her ever since she’d made the tumble down the proverbial rabbit hole.

“I would murder someone for some chocolate,” she mumbled one afternoon. “I’m talking First Degree, premeditated murder.”

Her self-appointed guardian, Tinuthel, by now used to her charge’s foreign murmurings, barely glanced up from her embroidery. Not for the first time, Alice wondered if elves had miserable pregnancies just like humans did. Not that she’d probably ever know. She hadn’t seen any pregnant elves around. In fact, now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen any _children_ around either. Alice glanced over at Tinuthel, trying to guess at her age. Physically she didn’t look much older than Alice herself, with her perfect, unblemished skin and glossy dark hair. And yet...she carried herself with too much poise and grace for her to think she was anywhere _near_ her own age. If anything, she reminded Alice of an old woman wearing the skin of a _much_ younger one.

Alice glared at the shirt given to her to mend. The last time she’d had to sew anything was when her great-aunt wrangled her into helping her put together a quilt...and that had been with a _sewing machine_ . She glanced back over at Tinuthel, eyeing the perfect stitching on the collar of the dress she was embroidering. Clearly her own horrid skills were not needed here. Alice wasn’t a moron, she _knew_ Tinuthel was just trying to keep her busy.

Well, she could keep herself busy just fine on her own thankyouverymuch!

Alice stood, laying the shirt with its needle and thread back into the basket at her feet. She could feel Tinuthel’s eyes follow her as she crossed to the other end of the room and disappeared into the pantry/storage room only to reappear again with a bucket in hand.

“ _Me...go...water_ ,” she said in Sindarin, stumbling over the words with the grace of a two-year old. Tinuthel smiled, leaning her head in her hand and waving Alice away with the other.

“ _Go._ ”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Alice darted out the front door of the _talan_ before coming to a screeching halt at the top steps leading _down_.

_Ah. My old nemesis. So we meet again._

The steps wound down, _down_ the silver bark of the great _mallorn_ trunk forcing Alice to stretch her neck to spy the final steps down on the forest floor below. She’d never been a fan of high places and her new home in the trees was doing a wonderful job at pushing her acrophobia to its limits. It didn’t help that there was absolutely _no railing_ on these stairs.

 _Fucking elves_.

Carefully, Alice made her way down the steps at the speed of sludge, leaning against the _mallorn_ trunk as if to put as much distance between her and the nothingness on her right as humanly possible. It took a lot longer for her to get to the bottom than she would’ve on any other staircase back home, but then those stairs had had _handrails_. At least _they_ had given her the _illusion_ of safety.

_Maybe they’ll install some for me? You know...once I can form complete sentences that they can understand._

And the funny thing was, if she’d asked, Alice wasn’t entirely sure that the elves of Lothlórien _wouldn’t_ go out of their way to add railing to their staircases. If the last month had taught her anything, it was that her hosts were _more_ than happy to accommodate her. She imagined that they didn’t see a whole lot of pregnant women. It would certainly explain why they practically tripped over themselves (except they didn’t _trip_ because _elves_ ) to aid her day in and day out. Though...there was _one in particular_ who _did_ seem to follow her around more than most…

“Oh...it’s _you_ again.” _Speak of the devil...and he shall appear._ Alice craned her neck up as a curtain of familiar silver hair came into view. _Jeez, he's tall_. And he was. Taller than her father even, who she knew for a fact stood well over six feet.

He called himself Celírion. Or at least, that's what she _assumed_ his name was anyway. Her grasp on Sindarin was still fundamental at best and appalling at worst. For all she knew, she had been calling him by the wrong name for the last few weeks and he was just too polite to correct her.

Without preamble, the elf plucked the bucket she’d been carrying from her fingers and began walking in the direction of the nearest stream. Alice let out a long-suffering sigh. This was _exactly_ the kind of behavior she’d been having to deal with lately.

“You know, I can do that myself,” she muttered under her breath as she made to follow him. Celírion peered over his shoulder at her curiously, but otherwise kept walking with those long, elegant legs of his that had Alice nearly jogging to keep up.

The stream was mercifully close-by and she was breathing hard by the time they made it to the grassy bank. Alice had never felt this out of shape in her life. She supposed this was just one more thing she could blame on her pregnancy (as she did everything these days) but she had a feeling at least part of it had to do with all the physical activity she had been doing after a lifetime of laziness. Attempting to catch her breath, she flopped onto the grass unceremoniously while her self-appointed pack mule set about filling her bucket for her. Alice not-so-subtly studied the arch of his back. Well, at least he was a _very attractive_ pack mule. She could certainly do worse. When Celírion was finished with his task he stood back up to his full height and turned around just in time to notice Alice ogling him. He grinned at her, showing off every one of his perfect white teeth.

Alice kept staring.

For one hysterical moment she wondered if he did that on purpose just to throw her off. _Then again_ ...she thought as he reached out a hand to pull her to her feet. _Perhaps not_ . He was too...oblivious. Did he even _realize_ just how attractive he was? Probably not, considering he was constantly surrounded on all sides by _other_ insanely attractive people every day. Alice, on the other hand, found that being around such people at all hours had begun to make her far more aware of insecurities she had long thought she’d put to rest. Seriously, the longer she hung around these people the more disgruntled she became.

Or, you know, it was the hormones.

...It was probably the hormones.

Alice shook herself from her thoughts only to realize that the object of her internal monologue was staring at her expectantly. She stared back, raising her eyebrows. Celírion tilted his head curiously and then raised his own brows. He...was he _copying_ her?

She pursed her lips. “What are you, _five_?”

She didn’t wait for him to reply, just huffed in annoyance and grabbed at the bucket hanging idly at his side. He relinquished it without a fight but then Alice immediately found herself regretting her decision as her arm struggled to accommodate the now _much_ heavier bucket. She grasped the handle with both hands and glanced back in the direction of Tinuthel’s talan. For a moment she briefly considered carrying her load all the way up the steps herself...and then promptly discarded it. She looked back at Celírion.

“I changed my mind,” she sighed (a bit over-dramatically), offering the bucket back to him and switching to Sindarin. “ _Help?_ ”

He smiled good-naturedly and took ahold of her burden once more.

“ _Yes._ ”

**\---oo0oo---**

“...That _can’t_ be right…”

Alice stared dumbly at the sunshine colored fruit hanging merrily above her. She blinked. There...there _couldn’t_ be orange trees here...could there?

_Aren’t oranges native to Asia?_

She peered down the row of neatly lined fruit trees, spying orange, fig, and lemon trees. Her eyebrows shot into her hairline. _None_ of those trees were native to Northern Europe... _at all_ . Nor, for that matter, did any of them do well in northern climates. So...how were they _here?_

 _Elves_ , she decided after investigating the area further and recognizing eggplants, pea pods, and and even an olive tree. _Elves and magic_. With a jolt, she realized that, quite without her say-so, magic had snuck its way into her life and had become as real as the orange tree she was currently peering up at.

 _When did my life become so bizarre?_ She asked herself. At the back of her mind, a cool voice replied, _When you fell down the rabbit hole Alice._ Viciously, she stuffed the thought away to dwell on at a later time...a much, _much_ later time.

Instead, Alice decided to wander around the gardens some more, the basket she’d been given to harvest fruit now long abandoned at the base of an orange tree. She saw a familiar fuzzy fruit hanging from a bough nearby and she eagerly grasped for it. _Peaches_ ! Juice dribbled down her chin as she bit into it. It was ripe and _sweet_ . She hadn’t eaten a peach in _months_. Suddenly feeling like a kid in a candy store, Alice ran back to snatch up her basket and began filling it up with all of her favorite fruits.

_Oh my God they have cantaloupes! And plums! And lemons! I can make lemonade now!! Fucking lemonade!!!_

Alice scurried from one garden patch to the next like a greedy squirrel gathering nuts for the winter. By the time she was done her basket was practically overflowing and far too heavy for her to carry herself.

_Damn. Where’s an elf when you need one?_

No sooner did she think those words when no less than _three_ elves appeared out of nowhere to help her carry her fruity bounty home. Two of them were blonde, but one of them was a lady who had dark hair like Tinuthel. She pulled a fat cantaloupe from Alice’s basket, as one of the blonde elves hoisted it up with astonishing ease, and cast a wry smile her way. She said something, though it was too complex for Alice to understand (though she thought she might’ve heard the words for ‘you’ and ‘eat’ in there somewhere).

Was...was she _implying_ something?

Alice’s eyes narrowed. “I really hope you didn’t just call me ‘fat’.”

The elf just kept smiling that _mischievous_ smile of hers though, and tucked the cantaloupe under one arm before tucking Alice’s hand in the crook of the other, steering her off somewhere that was most assuredly _not_ the direction of Tinuthel’s talan.

“Ummm, where are you taking me?”

The she-elf didn’t reply, just continued to drag Alice off towards the center of the city.

_Wait...isn’t that where…?_

Sure enough, the massive white trunk of the mallorn at Lothlórien’s heart appeared, as well as the great elegant hall settled amongst its branches.

 _Galadriel’s_ Hall.

Alice felt her heart leap into her throat. She hadn’t seen Galadriel since...well... _that day_. Not that she had anything against Galadriel, per say, but they hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms, what with her suffering a massive nervous breakdown and Galadriel seeing...whatever it was she saw in Alice’s head.

Before she could suffer yet another meltdown however, her guide veered off just left of the Lord and Lady’s humble abode and pulled Alice into a large white building at ground level. Judging from the smells emanating from the place, she knew exactly what it was before she saw the interior. And of course her nose proved to be right.

A kitchen.

A very _large_ kitchen. Alice felt beads of sweat form at her temples as they drew close to one of the many clay ovens situated in one corner. Elsewhere she spied drying herbs and spices hanging from the ceiling and rows upon rows of shelves lined with jars and bowls filled to the brim with every kind of ingredient imaginable.

Unbidden, Alice felt her mouth water.

Her self-appointed elf guide towed her through the mayhem of the kitchen, easily dodging cooks with hot trays and wickedly sharp knives, before laying her cantaloupe on a table and gently pushing Alice onto a stool nearby. And then, without a word, she set to work.

At first Alice wasn’t quite sure _why_ she’d been dragged here, but after the nameless elf began chopping _her_ cantaloupe into pieces, it dawned on her.

She was _cooking_ for her.

It actually ended up being a fascinating process to watch. The dark-haired elf deftly sliced Alice’s cantaloupe into small pieces before depositing them into a large ceramic bowl to be mashed with what appeared to be a wooden pestle. When the fruit had been ground into a thick soupy paste, she added several pinches of different herbs she had pulled from one of the shelves and a generous helping of cream and some other liquid Alice couldn’t identify and then dumped everything into a little kettle to be hung over the nearby fireplace. And then they waited.

While the fragrant concoction bubbled over the fire, the elf _finally_ introduced herself.

“ _Lúthiril_ ,” she smiled, holding both hands to her breast.

“Alice.”

Lúthiril’s smile grew wry again, as if Alice had done something particularly _cute_ before saying, “ _I know._ ”

She wanted to smack herself. Of _course_ she knew what Alice’s name was. Everyone _and their mother_ probably did at this point.

“Right. Duh.”

Although she knew for a fact the she-elf had no idea what she had said, Lúthiril laughed anyway, clearly amused by the girl’s behavior.

Alice sighed. “Well, I’m glad one of us finds this funny.” A breeze from the window wafted the scent of her soup towards her. It smelled _heavenly_. Her mouth watered. She glanced beseechingly over at Lúthiril. “I don’t suppose you’d know if it’s done yet?”

The hunger on her face must’ve been obvious because Lúthiril slid from her stool and grabbed a meter-long metal pole and used it to hook the cauldron by its handle and pull it out of the fireplace. She set it carefully onto the dusty stone floor to let it cool before putting the pole back in its corner.

In the end, the soup ended up being as delicious as she could’ve hoped. Alice had never had cantaloupe soup before, but by her third spoonful it became her favorite soup _ever_.

“I don’t know _what_ you put in this,” she said to a grinning Lúthiril in between mouthfuls, “But you are now officially my best friend.”

And thus began the friendship of Alice the Mortal, and Lúthiril, the Cook.

**\---oo0oo---**

Learning Sindarin was _torturous_.

It wasn't at all like learning German or Spanish. For one, her teachers in those subjects had been fluent in English as well as the language they taught. And for another…it was unlike any other language she'd ever encountered. At first she'd thought it reminded her of Arabic with its fluid, sinuous tones but then after a while it begun to remind her of Swedish or Welsh when she listened long enough. Many of the words certainly seemed to have more in common with Scandinavian ones than they did with the quick and sweeping vocabulary of Arabic or Farsi. Still…even Swedish had _some_ similarities to German (and by extension English) but for some reason Sindarin seemed as alien to her two months into her stay as it had been when she'd first arrived. Even constantly surrounded by it on all sides as she was, it was nothing if not a slow-going process.

As well as extremely frustrating.

Eventually, even the ever-patient Tinuthel seemed to take notice of her charge's ever-growing vexation over the matter.

" _Alice,_ " she heard the elleth call to her from the center common room one afternoon. It was still strange having her room so close to the 'living area' of a house instead of upstairs and down a long hallway. Talan layouts, unlike every other building layout Alice had ever encountered, often mimicked the shape of a flower, with a circular common room of sorts being at the center of the dwelling and additional rooms attached around it like wide petals. Though it certainly made things more open, it also left little room for privacy. Grudgingly, and still half asleep from her sorely-needed afternoon nap, Alice poked her head out from behind her door like a prairie dog poking its head out from its burrow.

She froze.

Sitting at the center table was Arwen. _The_ Arwen.

It wasn't especially difficult to ascertain who their illustrious guest was, after all, Alice had caught sight of her once or twice on her daily outings and one would've have to have been deaf to _not_ hear the murmurings of ' _Arwen Undómiel_ ' that followed in her wake. That and she was _easily_ the loveliest creature in the room. Liv Tyler may have been beautiful, but Arwen Undómiel was _otherworldly_. She was like an ethereal faerie princess compared to her handmaidens or Tinuthel.

Alice, who had never been particularly interested in females before now, felt her heart flutter.

" _Come Alice,_ " Tinuthel said, voicing two of the few words the girl understood. Alice obeyed and shyly moved from behind her door to sit down in the chair offered her.

" _Hello,_ " Arwen greeted with a smile. Alice, who had always thought likening someone's voice to a bell was ridiculous, suddenly found herself uncomfortably realizing that Arwen's voice did _indeed_ sound like a bell. Well, there was a first time for everything.

" _Hello,_ " Alice parroted back, her throat suddenly very dry. She ducked her head. God, she felt like a twelve year-old with her first crush! What was wrong with her?

Arwen, however, either didn't seem to notice or was a saint and didn't remark on the girl's flustered demeanor. Instead, she spoke a few more words, though Alice barely caught any of them. Tinuthel, however, did and replied back in kind.

Suddenly, one of Arwen's handmaidens moved forward and deposited a rectangular wrapped package on the table in front of her. She glanced at the elf curiously, then Tinuthel, and finally Arwen. They all gave her encouraging looks. She looked back down at the package, examining it closer. It was thick, about the size and weight of her PS3 back home, and wrapped up in fine linen. When she peeled the cloth back, she came face to face with a leather-bound book with a sturdy dark cover that bore a simple patterned border along its edges. Alice flipped through the pages. Blank. All of them.

It was a notebook.

She looked back up to see Arwen give her a bright grin as she mimed writing on the table. Alice was speechless. Of all the gifts given to her these past weeks, this was by _far_ the most thoughtful. Suddenly, and quite without warning, she began to cry.

_Damn hormones!!_

Thankfully, the four elves, though surprised by this sudden outburst, seemed to innately understand that these were tears of joy and not due to the girl's dissatisfaction with her gift. Alice clutched the book to her chest tightly and gratefully took the scrap of linen given to her to blow her nose before she could embarrass herself by wiping it on her sleeve.

" _Thank you!_ " Alice may have been completely useless at Sindarin, but she at least knew _that_ much.

Pleased, Arwen smiled, stunning the girl into complete silence.

Their guest stayed a little while longer, chatting softly with Tinuthel and coaxing a few more words from Alice before she left.

Alice clutched her gift to her chest as she watched her go.

**\---oo0oo---**

Arwen's book, as it turned out, came to be _extremely_ helpful in the coming weeks and months. Words which she had been expected to memorize on the spot were now meticulously documented into her notebook with more zeal than she'd ever exhibited when taking notes on French or Spanish in high school. Then again, in high school she had been able to communicate with her peers just fine in English, whereas in Lothlórien she felt like she had the linguistic skills of a toddler.

It was amazing what desperation did for one's work ethic.

Which was exactly why Alice often found herself clumsily scribbling away in her notebook (writing with quills, as she had quickly found out, was far more difficult than the movies had led her to believe) in Galadriel's Garden with the overly cheery Celírion to keep her company. She couldn't remember exactly when the arrangement had started, only that every time she came to the garden with her notebook and quills he would appear to painstakingly teach her new words and help correct her pronunciation.

Mostly though, he was just distracting.

“Don’t you have better things to do?” Alice mumbled one afternoon as she hunched over that day’s vocabulary. It was becoming quite the challenge to focus on the notes scribbled on the page before her and not on the heat of the body sitting next to her.

Oblivious to her inner turmoil, Celírion cheerfully rambled off a few Sindarin words to her but then glanced sideways when her quill remained idle, her fingers limp. _He has really pretty eyes_ , she thought before suddenly realizing that he was staring at her. Embarrassed, she hastily ducked her head.

Her morning sickness had finally abated a couple of weeks ago. Sadly though her joy had been short-lived when it became clear that a very _different_ sort of symptom had taken its place. One far more… _carnal_. Out of the corner of her eye, Alice spied long pale fingers settled just inches away from her hip. Shamelessly, she wondered what they would feel like brushing against her skin or gripping her hair as-

A concerned hand fell upon Alice’s shoulder, halting her decidedly _inappropriate_ daydreams. She froze and glanced over at her companion in horror.

_God, what am I doing?! He’s right here!!_

“I’m sorry! I-I…I should…” She rose hurriedly, jostling the book from her lap and nearly knocking over her bottle of ink in the process. Thankfully Celírion was far quicker than she and deftly snatched the bottle from the edge of the bench. He made to return it to her, but Alice was already stuffing her book into the bag at her feet and then making excuses as she retreated away. She backed away as if placating bear instead of the rather confused elf before her.

“ _Me…me go._ ” And then, before he could protest, Alice turned on her heels and ran. She didn’t stop until she made it all the way back to her room, where she stayed for the remainder of the night.

**\---oo0oo---**

She couldn’t ignore it anymore. Alice stared down at her stomach with a look that seemed to indicate that it had offended her in some way.

She was getting _bigger_.

In fact…she was starting to feel like a _whale_ . With a lamentable jolt, Alice realized she could barely make out the tops of her toes anymore. She craned her neck forward. _Ah. Much better_.

By her estimate she was only about four months along…so why was she so _big_?

Apparently, Arwen seemed to have some ideas.

“ _Twins_ ,” She suggested to her one humid afternoon as they sat at the edge of a pool with their skirts hiked up and their legs submerged up to their knees. Ever since her impromptu visit Arwen had gradually begun to seek Alice out, whether it be for a chat in Tinuthel’s talan or joining her when she was out and about. It had been awkward at first, what with her shoddy Sindarin and that fact that _it was Arwen_ , but eventually she had grown used to her company just as she had everyone else’s (which was to say she could look everyone in the eye without feeling completely inferior…though she often still felt that way… _a lot_ ).

“… _Twins_ …?” Alice had never heard that word before and it took more than a little miming on both Arwen and her handmaiden’s part for the meaning to finally click.

…Twins…

…Twins?

…Twins!

_Oh…oh noooooooooo…_

Alice glanced down at her middle worriedly. That…she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. Probably petrified…or _definitely_ petrified.

“…I think I liked you better when there was just _one_ of you.”

**\---oo0oo---**

Sometime in September, as the summer began to wind down, the elves threw a party.

The days leading up to it were a flurry of activity, with Lúthiril endlessly busy in the kitchens preparing a feast and Celírion off doing...whatever it was he did when Alice wasn’t around. As for herself, Alice had been wrangled into helping string up garlands of flowers and lanterns alongside Tinuthel and a dozen other _ellyth_ . She didn’t mind all that much. It kept her busy and it was nothing short of a wonder to watch Caras Galadhon transform from a forest city into something that could only be described as...well... _Wonderland_. It was quite the sight, with the mallorn trees draped in flowery finery, trickling petals down to carpet the forest floor with every passing breeze and colorful lanterns hanging cheerfully from the boughs of every tree. Everywhere she looked was a riot of color and opulence and it was impossible for Alice not to get caught up into the spirit of it.

The day before the festival, Alice was dragged along to the bathhouse at the edge of the city to primp and preen with the other ellyth. It wasn’t the first time she had been there of course, and originally she’d found the act of washing surrounded by so many others strange and rather embarrassing, but eventually the convenience of extra pairs of hands and the sheer welcoming camaraderie of the other ellyth put her at ease. Beautiful though they were, the elves were kind and nonjudgmental...well...most of them anyway.

She could still remember the shocked gazes of a few ellyth when she disrobed, revealing not only bare skin, but the tattoos on her back and forearm. Though that particular incident had been well over two months ago, Alice could still feel the curious stares as she now scrubbed at her skin, wishing to finish and escape as soon as possible.

 _It’s a tree,_ she thought grumpily as one elleth eyed the design on her back curiously. _I thought you people_ liked _trees?_

“ _Do not...them,_ ” Tinuthel murmured as she cast a disapproving look towards the ogling elleth which sent her scurrying. “ _They...curious._ ” Although Alice could only make out a handful of her guardian’s words, she could still grasp the soothing meaning behind them. She shrugged her shoulders, but cast Tinuthel a small smile as she tipped her head back to rinse her hair out.

The following day came too soon, and with it more than a few surprises.

“ _For me?_ ” Alice was unable to contain her shock as Tinuthel laid a bundle of bright green cloth in her lap just as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Tinuthel smiled. “ _For you._ ”

It was a dress. A very beautiful dress actually, with fitted sleeves and a delicately embroidered bodice. Alice admired the stitching, recognizing the gown as the one Tinuthel had been working on for the last several weeks. So _this_ was what she had been making. Shyly, she reached over and wrapped her arms around the elleth, pulling her into a hug.

“ _Thank you._ ”

Tinuthel held her close for a moment, and then pulled back and bestowed a kiss upon her brow. “ _You are welcome Alice._ ” A joyful grin spread across her face then and she added, “ _Now...us...you dressed._ ”

The festival was in full swing by the time Alice and her guardians arrived and it quickly became clear to her that when the elves partied, they _really_ partied. Everywhere she looked elves laughed and danced and feasted while the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien overlooked all from their place upon the dais at the center of the revelry, reminding her of a couple of doting parents looking down upon their many children. Somewhere amongst the revelers, Alice spied Arwen dancing with someone. Dazed and overwhelmed by the sights and sounds, Alice was steered in the direction of one of the many tables scattered about the area and she sat down heavily only to gape at the spread atop it.

 _Lúthiril_ has _been busy._

The food was a spectacle in of itself, with roasted game swimming in fragrant sauces, golden crusted pies, succulent fruit tarts and cakes, and elegant glass jugs filled to the brim with what was clearly some sort of liquor. Alice lamented the fact that she couldn’t partake in that last one, but she happily plucked a sticky cake from its place amongst its brothers and nibbled on it as Tinuthel settled beside her.

“ _...dance my lady?_ ” Alice turned in time to catch Brandir gallantly bowing before his wife. Tinuthel gave him a wry smile, replying with something she didn’t quite catch before he pulled her to her feet and into a dance. A lively tune picked up in the background and Alice hid her smile as she bit into her cake, watching Brandir twirl his wife about the center of the clearing. After all the trouble they endured looking after her, they deserved to enjoy themselves for the night. She made to turn back to the feast then, fully prepared to spend the rest of the evening stuffing her face, but it turned out somebody had _other_ ideas.

“ _Lady Alice!_ ” The girl in question paused, her fingers hovering in mid-air over a very tasty looking meat pie. She knew _that_ voice all too well by now. She sucked in a breath through her nose before letting it out in a huff and turned to stare up at the familiar face behind her.

Like everyone here, Celírion was dressed in his best and Alice couldn’t help noticing that his tunic was almost the same shade as his jewel-bright eyes, while his hair was pulled back into one of the many complicated braided hairstyles she’d seen the elves favor. He grinned down at her merrily, his smile a little too wide.

“ _You...lovely Lady Alice!_ ” It took a moment for Alice to catch the meaning but when she did her eyes grew wide and her mouth grew slack. She noted then his exuberant smiles and exaggerated movements and a thought occurred to her as she glanced over at the pitcher of liquor out of the corner of her eye. Was...was he _drunk_ ? He said something more to her but his words had taken on a slurred quality and so she had trouble making out anything other than her name. Yep. _Definitely_ drunk.

Clearly _someone_ had been taking advantage of the free-flowing liquor this evening.

Alice pursed her lips. “ _Hinsetzen. Du bist betrunken_.”

Celírion gave her a queer look. “ _...not sound...your language._ ”

Alice ignored him. Not that _that_ stopped him of course.

“ _…you like…dance?_ ”

She glanced between the ellon and the lively group of dancers behind him and then made to open her mouth and decline. Unfortunately Celírion seemed to read her intention on her face and she barely caught the wry smile appear on his own before she was bodily pulled to her feet and led into the crowd.

“Ummmmm,’ Alice said dumbly as nearly every elven gaze fell upon her. Oh God, this was worse than that time on stage in elementary school! She dropped her gaze to the ground, hoping a hole would appear to swallow her. Cool fingers grasped her own and she glanced up reflexively.

Celírion smiled at her. “ _Do as I do._ ” It was a familiar phrase, one she had heard many times from both Tinuthel and Brandir when either of them wished to teach her something. He started slow, his fingers cool against her own as he guided her through a simple set of movements and though she had the long limbs of a dancer, they weren’t as well acquainted with the practice as her partner, who moved through the dance with a natural grace. Nonetheless, she did her best to mimic him as best she could. Alice caught Celírion grinning at her as she twirled a little _too_ far to the left and she made a face at him.

“ _I no good dance._ ”

But Celírion was already waving her concern away as he pulled her forward, their bodies inches away from one another. “ _Nonsense!_ ”

Suddenly the tune changed, morphing from a cheery (though meandering) song that Alice could easily keep pace with to a much more _spirited_ one. One glance up at Celírion and she saw his eyes _glitter_.

_Oh no._

Whatever protest she was about to voice was quickly lost on the breeze as she was swept up into a _far_ more lively dance than the last. No sooner did Celírion spin her around though, than she was whirled from one partner right over to another. Unlike herself though, her new dance partner took the move in stride and easily looped his arm through hers and swung her around in a move reminiscent of that ridiculous _Cotton-Eyed Joe_ dance she and her friends did at _every_ Middle School and High School dance. And so the dance went with her getting passed from one partner to another until she was flushed and dizzy and laughter began to bubble up from her throat. By the time she was finally passed back to Celírion again she was laughing and giggling like someone half her age, something that seemed to please her friend greatly.

“ _No more!_ ” She laughed as she settled back into her seat later. Celírion grinned good naturally at her and she leaned back against the table, attempting to catch her breath as he made to sit beside her. She caught the sound of liquid being poured into a cup and then her friend handed her a cup of water which she accepted gratefully before gulping it down greedily.

Another song had begun in the clearing, this one slightly less exuberant than the last, and Alice caught sight of Arwen dancing with someone again. She squinted. There was something… _off_ about Arwen’s dance partner. He didn’t seem to blend in as well with the other elves around him. Though lithe and lean, he was just a touch too broad about the shoulders and...was that… _facial hair_??

Her eyes widened.

Frantically, she grasped ahold of Celírion’s sleeve and pointed in Arwen’s direction with her other hand. “ _Man!_ ”

Confused by her sudden outburst, her companion glanced over at Arwen’s dance partner…and then smiled. With a chuckle, he carefully pushed her accusatory hand down and then leaned in close to whisper to her.

“ _Aragorn._ ”

Stunned, Alice stared at the couple as they danced. They were making _eyes_ at each other.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. “Aragorn’s here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last half of this chapter was a pain in the ass (I say that a lot, but only because it’s true). Thankfully the last bit hit me and I think this ending is much better than the one it had before the rewrite. Or maybe not? Let me know. I’d love to hear from yooooouuuuuu! :D
> 
> Chapter Timeframe: August 2, 2998 T.A. - September 29, 2998 T.A.
> 
> Today in "Middle Earthean History, Culture, and Geography Notes AKA Stuff I Feel Like Talking About":  
> \--> If you’re wondering why Alice isn’t panicking and having constant nervous breakdowns anymore (like she did in Chapter One) that’s because we spent a month in Celírion’s POV and, if you remember (in the last chapter), he mentions Alice locking herself in her room immediately after moving in with Tinuthel and Brandir. During that time she got all the emotional turmoil and self-pity out of her system (for the most part) before she made the effort to join society. Part of the reason we skipped seeing that is because you wouldn’t have wanted to read about it and I wouldn’t have wanted to write about it (I can only write so much angst before my brain melts). The other reason is because we needed an introduction to Celírion and what better time would there be than when Alice has locked herself away from the world so she can feel sorry for herself?  
> \--> Oranges, peaches, and other such fruits are originally native to Asia while cantaloupe came not only from Asia but also the Middle East and Africa. As Alice guessed, the reason the elves can grow so many exotic fruits and vegetables in a place so far north is partially due to good old normal ‘elf magic’ as well as the preservative powers of Galadriel’s ring, Nenya. As for how they got there in the first place, in my own personal headcanon, the elves brought them along with them when they made the Great Journey from Cuiviénen in the far East. Potatoes, tomatoes, and other such crops however, will not be showing up in this fic as they are ‘New World’ (American) foods and weren’t brought over to Europe and the rest of the world until the 16th century.  
> \--> This fic takes place 20 years before the original events of the War of the Ring. During that time, Arwen was actually kicking back in Lothlórien with her grandparents, not chillaxing in Rivendell with her dad and brothers.  
> \--> One of the many symptoms of pregnancy is an elevated libido. Some people get it and some people don’t. Unfortunately for Alice though, she did, and boy are the hormones a ragin’. Thus Alice suddenly finds herself wanting to jump Celírion’s bones even though she barely knows the poor guy (not that that’s ever stopped her. She did get pregnant from a one-night stand after all).  
> \--> Hinsetzen. Du bist betrunken is German for ‘Sit down. You’re drunk’. Admittedly, I have not taken German since High School (which was quite a few years ago), so I cheated and used Google Translate. If anyone here does speak fluent German and would like to correct me, please do.  
> \--> If you’ve never done the partner-changing Cotton-Eyed Joe dance (I don’t know if it actually has a real name so that’s what I’m calling it), you should. It’s ridiculous but super fun. Like Alice, it always ended up playing at every Middle School and High School dance I went to and always ended with my friends and I laughing.  
> \--> Aragorn’s whereabouts around this time period are kinda sketchy. We know he and Arwen became betrothed in 2980 T.A. and that Arwen later leaves Lothlórien and travels back to Rivendell and Aragorn goes hunting for Gollum in 3009 T.A. So that leaves us with a 29-year gap where we have no idea what Aragorn was doing. Thus I feel within my rights to claim he’s been chilling in Lothlórien this whole time. Why hasn’t Alice seen him? Because he’s been hanging out at Galadriel’s house with his girlfriend, the one place Alice has avoided thus far. 
> 
> Sindarin Names and Their Meanings/Pronunciations  
> Lúthiril - Charming Lady (loo-theer-eel)  
> Arwen - Noble Maiden (are-when)


	4. Human Customs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Celírion learns the finer points of bizarre human holidays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to our favorite dorky elf’s POV. 
> 
> Also, on a hilarious side-note Alice scores a 40 on the Universal Mary Sue Litmus Test which apparently means CAST IT INTO THE FLAMES! 
> 
> Edit: Much of the plot for this chapter pulls from what was once Chapter 3. Don’t worry, baby stuff is coming up next chapter. And then after that we’ll be where I left off and everything onwards will be brand new territory.
> 
> Edit Part Deux: Added a title card with Alice and Celírion being dorks.

“A nation’s culture resides in the hearts and in the soul of its people” - _Mahatma Gandhi_

* * *

  **Lothlórien, 2998 of the Third Age**

Celírion had seen Alice do many strange things over the course of her stay in Lothlórien, like when she wrote in her book in that queer script of hers, or when she waved her hands around when she spoke. And yet...this by far had to be the strangest.

“What is _that_?” He eyed the mutilated squash in the girl’s lap and then the considerably sharp looking knife she was using to carve holes into it.

She didn’t even bother to look up. “I make _Jack o’ Lantern_.”

Celírion blinked.

“And what, pray tell, is a _Jack o’ Lantern_?”

This time she stopped and glanced up at him, pausing to consider the question. Celírion watched wearily as the blade in her hand slipped a little in her fingers, forgotten. She furrowed her brows and pursed her lips in concentration. “ _Jack o’ Lantern_...tradition...in...my...home.” She said the words slowly as if she were attempting to recall the correct ones. Their lessons in the gardens had improved her Sindarin immensely, though she was still nowhere near fluent, and it showed in the way she often stumbled over her words.

“Tradition?” He prompted, sinking down to crouch at her level.

A wistful smile crept across her face then. “Yes. _Halloween_.”

“ _Halloween_?” The word was strange on his tongue.

“Human festival,” she explained, still smiling.

Celírion’s eyes flicked back down to the disfigured vegetable in her lap. “And what then, is this _Jack o’ Lantern_ of yours for?”

Alice shrugged. “Bad spirits.”

His brows rose into his hairline. “Bad spirits,” he repeated, somewhat skeptically. And how _exactly_ was a mangled yellow vegetable going to ward away evil spirits?

“Long time...away...people make _Jack o’ Lantern_ scare bad spirits away.” It was clearly a tricky explanation for her and he caught himself staring as she bit on her lower lip pensively. “ _Halloween_ when...spirits visit humans.”

“And what is it you do on this _Halloween_?”

“Dress like spirits...and monsters.” She added the last part as if such a thing were normal and Celírion had to wonder if perhaps, to her, it was. Humans dressing up as monsters and carving holes into vegetables? Such strange holidays she had!

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Fun,” and then, “I miss.”

Though her communication skills were barely adequate at times, her face said everything. She looked so.... _sad_. Unbidden, the wheels in Celírion’s mind began to turn.

“When is this _Halloween_?”

“After harvest.”

**\---oo0oo---**

“But what _kind_ of food do you need?” Lúthiril drawled, amused. She was of a similar height as Celírion and yet he felt as an elfling before her knowing blue gaze. He fought the urge to fidget.

“Sweet things. Fruits and pies I imagine.”

A slow smile spread across the cook’s face. “You _imagine_?”

This time, Celírion _did_ fidget. “They are not for myself.”

“Oh?” She was teasing him now. It was clear in the mirth in her eyes and the laughter in her smile. “And _who_ are they for?”

The ellon fixed her with a hard stare. It was the same look his father had given him when he had been young and troublesome. “How _long_ must I endure your mocking before you agree to my request?”

Lúthiril laughed. “Very well. I will see what I can do. Come back tomorrow. I should have them ready for you then.”

Celírion wasn’t sure if he liked the look she cast his way before turning back into the warmth of the kitchens. Sly and secretive, as if she were in on some great jest and he had yet to figure it out. Then again, Lúthiril had always been a mischievous creature, easily amused by the petty woes and fortunes of her fellows. He tried not to imagine what that meant now that she was suddenly directing such attentions upon _him_ as he wandered away in the direction of the gardens.

Thankfully, the elves in the gardens proved to be much more accommodating than nosy Lúthiril had been, happily assisted him in picking the largest and brightest squash to take home, and never once questioning why he needed so many of them. His mother, however, was not nearly so understanding.

“Is there a _particular_ reason you brought a whole basketful of vegetables home?” Celephíl bent over the basket in question, smoothing her hand over the flesh of a considerably large striped squash sitting at the top.

Celírion grinned. “I am going to make _Jack o’ Lanterns_.”

His mother’s brows raised straight into her hairline. “I see…” she began carefully and went back to studying the basket’s contents curiously. “And what, pray tell, is a _Jack o’ Lantern_?”

Her son’s grin widened.

“Well, you see…”

**\---oo0oo---**

It was several days later before he arrived on her doorstep once more. Alice peeked out from her front door curiously, her bulging stomach hidden behind swathes of gray linen and the thick yellow shawl she’d wrapped around her shoulders to ward off the autumn chill. She gave him a friendly smile, but it was laced with a note of confusion. He had never called on her at night before.

“Hello Celírion,” Alice greeted, opening the door wider and stifling a yawn behind her hand. Tinuthel appeared behind her and gave Celírion a knowing look. He had warned her of his intentions the day before while her ward had been visiting the bathhouse. Without a word, she produced a thick green cloak and wrapped it around the girl’s shoulders.

“Go on. I think your friend has a surprise for you.”

Alice’s spine straightened and she blinked, startled. “What? I...I not understand…” She glanced back and forth between her guardian and her friend, utterly perplexed.

Gently, Celírion held out his hand and grinned. The girl stared at it wearily and then squinted, glancing back up at his face.

“Surprise?” She said the world slowly, _suspicious_ even.

“For you,” Celírion agreed eagerly. A silent war seemed to wage itself in her mind but it was soon obvious that curiosity had won out when she mustered her courage and delicately placed her hand in his own.

It wasn’t until they were descending the last few steps that he saw the look of surprise and delight on Alice’s face when she caught sight of the flickering light at the base of the steps.

“A _Jack o’ Lantern_ !” Despite the cold and the bulge at her middle, she stooped down to examine the crude face Celírion had carved into the squash the day before. He was not nearly as skilled at the art as his sister or her husband but Alice seemed unbothered by his lack of artistry. If anything, she was elated. She turned back to him, her face lit up with joy. “You make _Jack o’ Lantern_!”

“I did,” he confirmed and then bent down to pull out the basket he had hid under the bottom stair. Alice watched him with wide golden eyes as he carefully shook out a deer hide cloak and settled it around her shoulders. She glanced down at it curiously, brushing her fingers over the soft fur as he produced a much larger cloak of white feathers and two wooden masks. He donned the feathered cloak and then offered one of the masks to her. She took it wordlessly and marveled over it in the dim glow of the _Jack o’ Lantern_. It had taken him two days to get the look of it right, though that probably had more to do with his father’s hand in the work than his own. He was far more adept at whittling arrow shafts than he was at carving animals.

“You said on _Halloween_ your people dress as animals,” Celírion explained. He watched realization wash over her as he took the mask from her fingers and stood behind her to gently tie it into place.

The doe mask hid much of her expression from view, but he could still make out her eyes, shining bright and golden in the candlelight.

“ _Halloween_?” She breathed. She said it like a question or a prayer, as if she dared not hope but wished for it anyway.

He nodded, his smile hidden behind his own mask now. “ _Halloween_.”

****\---oo0oo---** **

For someone supposed to be weighed down by her pregnancy, Alice was as sprightly and buoyant as one of the elves. Celírion had planned it so that there would be people stationed on the forest floor to visit, worrying that forcing the girl to climb up every talan staircase would tire her. Now he wondered if hadn’t made a mistake as she practically skipped from elf to elf, forcing her friend to lengthen his stride to keep up. She laughed as she reached an amused couple by the creek and giggled the strange phrase (“ _Trick or Treat_!”) she’d taken to saying every time she met a new elf bearing treats for her. The ellon gave her an indulgent look as his wife handed her a pastry wrapped in a mallorn leaf. Alice’s face was hidden behind her mask but it was obvious she was happy by her ecstatic “Thank you!” before she was off and running again.

“Humans have very strange customs,” Celírion heard the ellon, Caladir, say as he watched the girl go.

His wife, Elwien, laughed, “Yes, but she is so happy. Let her have her fun.” She glanced at Celírion and added, “Do not lose her now. I see she has already reached poor Megilthor. I do not believe you thought to enlist him in your game.”

And she was right. Too late, Celírion spied Alice gesturing at the captain of Lord Celeborn’s personal guard. He sprinted forward just in time to hear her say, “ _Trick or Treat_?” in a decidedly more shy tone than the boisterous exclamations she’d been making previously. She must’ve already begun to realize that this particular elf was not in on her fun.

Megilthor glanced down at her, puzzled.

“I apologize dear child, I do not understand.”

“It is a game!” Celírion all but shouted as he hurried forward. The elder ellon turned to him, an odd expressions reaching his face as he took in the curious appearance of first Celírion and then Alice again.

“A _game_ you say?” A slow smile spread across the elder ellon’s face as he studied the two. “Is _that_ why you both are pretending to be little forest creatures?”

Flustered, Celírion tried to explain. “She missed her human festival. So I attempted to...recreate it...for...her…” He trailed off as he realized that Megilthor’s expression had only grown more amused.

“I see.”

“...She thought you were a part of it..”

“Yes,” the ellon confirmed, his smile wide. “I noticed.”

Celírion rested his fingers between his friend’s shoulder blades. They fluttered under his touch, as delicate as a bird’s wings. “We will leave you be,” he said and bowed. Alice curtseyed instead, her middle making it impossible to copy him. It was as he was steering her away that he heard Megilthor laugh and call after them, “Have fun children!”

He directed Alice back towards the creek where they had come from. The couple from before had disappeared.

Alice lay her basket full of sweets on the cool grass and leaned heavily upon Celírion as she struggled for a moment to sit down.

“Tired,” she explained with a yawn, her side pressed up against his, warm and distracting. They sat there for a while, listening to the chirping of the crickets and the rustling of the leaves overhead. Slowly, he felt her lean even more heavily upon him, her head lolling onto his shoulder. If he hadn’t heard her speak once more, he would’ve thought her asleep.

“I no _Trick or Treat_ long time,” her voice was quiet and soft like the autumn breeze that blew through his hair, whisper-soft. “Friends say _Halloween_ for children.”

“Why would your friends say such things?” Celírion asked before a sudden thought made him pause and add, “... _Is_ _Halloween_ for children?”

Alice giggled, the sound vibrating up his shoulder. “...Maybe.”

“But...you enjoy it anyway?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t see her face then, but Celírion _knew_ that she was smiling.

There was a long moment of silence and this time he was _sure_ she had fallen asleep when a hushed voice whispered, “Celírion?”

He turned his head in question. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

**\---oo0oo---**

It rarely snowed in Lothlórien (and never so close to Caras Galadhon due to the Lady Galadriel’s influence over the wood) but out here at the edges of the forest where their Lady’s magic waned, the winds cooled and whistled through the trees and, occasionally, snow blew from Hithaeglir and dusted the treetops with glittering white frost. To Celírion it was as if he were entering a completely separate world when he went on patrol in the winter, when the balmy eternal springtime of Caras Galadhon fell away as he and his fellows ventured ever further towards the borderlands. There was a chill in the air here that bit at his cheeks and reddened his nose in a way he never experienced ensconced in the shelter of the city and the novelty of it never failed to gladden his heart. Unfortunately not all in his merry band felt as he did.

“Cease your shivering Aegol, it is not nearly as cold as you seem to believe,” Dúferil scowled at Celírion’s friend as he continued to quiver underneath his thick wool cloak.

“Are you sure you do not have a trace of the secondborn somewhere in your ancestry?” Teased Gorlas with a sly grin. “You certainly seemed to shiver like one.” Aegol glowered at the other warden and made an unflattering suggestion about Gorlas’ own family history. Celírion snorted.

“I wish Lord Aragorn would finish with his business,” Aegol muttered.

Gorlas laughed. “I see you have the _impatience_ of a secondborn too.”

Celírion heard Dúferil let out a long-suffering sort of sigh and he watched her move away from the shelter of the trees and into the brightness of the open sunlit fields beyond the wood. He followed her line of sight and easily spotted the dark shape moving over the brightness of the snow-laden field.

“Lord Aragorn returns.”

A sennight ago the Rohirrim had gathered along the edge of the Limlight to battle invaders. Hearing of the plight of his mortal brethren across the river, Aragorn had left the shelter of the trees to aid them and though the elves of Lothlórien took no part in the dilemmas of men, they did not stop their friend from doing so. Celírion had been there to see him off beyond the border that separated Lothlórien from the mortal world and now he was here once more to welcome the man back home.

The ellon eyed the man as he drew closer, cantering forward on a spirited roan stallion which he drew up as they entered beneath the treeline.

“How fare you my lord?” Gorlas called jovially.

The stallion tossed his head and Aragorn leaned in to soothe the creature. “I am well my friend,” he swung from the saddle and Aegol moved forward to take the reins from him. “The Rohirrim drove the creatures from their lands well enough without my help, though they seemed glad for the aid.”

“As well they should be,” Dúferil exclaimed with pursed lips. “Come. Your lady awaits you.”

Celírion caught the man’s lip quirk into a wry smile.

“Well we had best not keep the lady waiting then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one’s so much shorter than the others. This chapter was kicking my ass. No seriously. Celírion doesn’t like to cooperate like Alice does. I’m all, “Okay the outline says we need to do this,” and Celírion is all, “Nope. I’d much rather do this instead,” and I’m all like, “Butthatdoesn’thaveanythingtodowiththeplot!OMGAARRRGGGHHHHHgfbcreglaefgrugsfcailefgaigf!!!!!” and then I proceed to angrily tear my hair out. Welcome to my writing process. And you wonder why it takes me so long to write these chapters...
> 
> Chapter Timeframe: October 10, 2998 T.A. - November 4, 2998 T.A.
> 
> Today in "Middle Earthean History, Culture, and Geography Notes AKA Stuff I Feel Like Talking About":  
> \--> Surprisingly I have very few notes for this chapter. This chapter was totally fluff and filler. Shameless fluff and filler. Come at bro.  
> \--> I literally listened to Spooky Scary Skeletons by Andrew Gold and Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saëns on an endless loop while writing this chapter. 
> 
> Sindarin Names and Their Meanings/Pronunciations  
> Elwien - Light Blue Daughter (ell-wee-en)  
> Caladir - Light Male (cal-uh-deer)  
> Megilthor - Sword Brother (meh-gill-thor)  
> Gorlas - Impetuous Joy (gore-loss)  
> Aragorn - Revered King (air-uh-gorn)


	5. Lady Madonna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alice realizes that her life is 10% action and 90% boredom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this took so long. A lot has happened in recent months. I moved out of my apartment last fall and moved in with my friend and her husband...and then found out rather quickly that her husband is a giant asshole and I was forced once more to move after only four months of living there. Then there’s my job which has been steadily exhausting me to the point that I’ve begun to burn out. There’s also been a tremendous amount of pain in my arm recently which has made both my job and writing extremely difficult. Even with prescription painkillers it’s been a struggle getting much done. Not to worry though, I finally was able to get in to see a specialist and he discovered the problem within the first 90 seconds of seeing me. The good news is it’s treatable and I’ll be seeing a physical therapist for the next several months. The bad news is it’s apparently a genetic problem and so I’ll be struggling with it for the rest of my life. Joy. Overall though, things seem to finally be on the up-and-up (which means more chapters in a more timely manner, hurray!). 
> 
> EDIT: So, for those of you seeing a new chapter and going ‘wait, didn’t I already read this?’, well yes. You sort of have. I went back and completely rewrote all of my previous chapters and added a bunch of new stuff and as such the brand new newer material will be showing up next chapter. Now that’s not to say that this chapter isn’t worth reading, but many of the plot elements from the previous version shows up in this one so if you don’t feel like re-reading you don’t have to. But...you know...you totally should anyway. Because reasons. 
> 
> EDIT Part Deux: I added another titecard, hope you like it. ;)

“If pregnancy were a book they would cut the last two chapters." - _Nora Ephron_

**Lothlórien, 2998 of the Third Age**

* * *

 “If ever a day arrives when I decide to become pregnant again, slap me.”

Alice’s audience twitched, but otherwise ignored her, instead sniffing interestedly at the bowl of honeyed nuts on her desk. She sighed and nudged the bowl further towards the windowsill.

“Go ahead, I’m sure you have your own kids to feed.”

The squirrel didn’t even hesitate before bloating it’s cheeks full with nuts and darting out the open window again. Alice watched it go morosely, her chin in her hand.

“Must be nice,” she murmured jealously. She hadn’t been able to move with that kind of agility in months. By now her stomach had reached cartoonish proportions and it was a trial just getting out of bed every morning, let alone sprinting across a tree branch. In fact her feet and ankles had swollen so badly in the last few weeks that she had barely been able to get out of bed _at all_. This, of course, had left her in an even more sour mood than ever.

“I hate being pregnant,” she huffed childishly.

She also hated being bored. Unfortunately with her bloated figure and her Sindarin reading skills practically nonexistent her options were sorely lacking in the entertainment department. Normally this wouldn’t be much of a problem since Celírion usually stuck to her like glue, however he was currently out of the city with a bunch of other elves doing...whatever elves did in the forest. He had been somewhat of a constant companion to her over the last six months and so his absences, few as they were, stood out to her all the more. And well...she missed the dork.

Not that she didn’t have plenty of other companions to fill in the spaces he left behind. If anything she had a constant rotation of elves coming in and out at all hours of the day, so much so that Alice had begun to feel it necessary to install a revolving door.

“ _Alice?_ ”

 _Speak of the devil_ …Alice glanced at her doorway and stiffened. Arwen smiled at her as she swept into the room, all glossy black hair and diaphanous gray linen. She had always had a bit of an inferiority complex around Arwen but now that she was roughly the size of a whale she was feeling a tad more lacking than usual. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she realized that it was the only one in the room. Arwen didn’t seem to mind though, and settled upon her bed instead.

“ _Tinuthel tells me that you have grown weary all alone up here._ ”

“Oh I’ve been growing alright…” Alice muttered darkly. Seeing Arwen’s polite but curious look however, she switched back to Sindarin. “ _I_ am _weary_ . _I want baby_ out _._ ” She stressed the last word with particular intensity.

Arwen smiled reassuringly. “ _Surely it will not be so much longer?_ ”

Alice shrugged tiredly. “ _Human baby born after nine months._ ”

“Truly?” Arwen seemed surprised. “ _Elven babes are born after a year._ ”

 _Jesus_ , she thought with a grimace. _And I thought nine months was bad._

“ _I happy baby is human then_.”

Arwen laughed then. “ _You did not jest. You_ are _weary, you poor creature._ ”

Alice sighed.

“You have no idea.”

**\---oo0oo---**

“ _I not wanted to be mother._ ”

Alice had never seen Tinuthel look so startled before.

“ _I do not understand._ ”

Alice bit her lip. How could she possibly explain growing up with a taboo surrounding teen pregnancy when Tinuthel herself lived in a world where teen pregnancy was a normal (and celebrated) occurrence.

“ _Where I come from...people have babies when they older._ ”

A strange look passed over Tinuthel’s face and she eyed Alice closely as if she were seeing her for the first time. “ _You are...young._ ”

“ _Yes,_ ” the girl looked away, unable to look her caretaker in the eye. “ _Very young._ ”

**\---oo0oo---**

“ _I had a daughter once._ ” Tinuthel told her one night as they sat by the window. Alice didn’t speak. She’d always suspected that Tinuthel and Brandir had children but had just assumed they had grown into adults and moved out. The way that she said it though... _once_ . That was not a word that spoke to _growing up_ and _moving away_ …she swallowed and waited

“ _Many years ago._ ” She continued. “ _Her name was Laerwen._ ”

“ _Summer Maiden_?” Alice said curiously.

Tinuthel nodded. “ _Brandir named her, because she was born in the summer. She was sweet and kind._ ” She smiled at Alice then. “ _You remind me of her._ ”

Alice frowned. “ _I not understand._ ”

Her guardian took ahold of one of her hands. “ _Laerwen was good and clever. I see her in you when you speak with Lady Arwen or when you try to sneak the last piece of pie when you think I do not notice._ ”

She flushed. “ _You knew?_ ”

Tinuthel smiled slyly. “ _I_ always _know. Laerwen did it too._ ”

“ _Really?_ ”

“ _Yes,_ ” Tinuthel laughed.

Alice bit her lip, afraid to ask to obvious question…but then plunged ahead anyway. “ _What happen to her?_ ”

A sad look passed over the elleth’s face and it was several moments before she replied. “ _She went to live in Imladris for a time and when the Lady Celebrían decided to visit her parents, the Lord and Lady, Laerwen decided to accompany her. They were waylaid by a pack of orcs in the mountains. Lady Celebrían was captured,”_ Tinuthel paused, as if she could not speak further…but then, _“_ … _Everyone else was killed._ ”

They sat in silence for a long time after that…until Alice threaded her fingers through her guardian’s and smiled up at her.

“ _So…you know when I sneak pie?_ ”

Tinuthel laughed.

**\---oo0oo---**

Alice was having a bit of an existential crisis.

Though to be fair it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been having one since the moment she woke up in a land normally relegated to the likes of lengthy fantasy trilogies and big-budget blockbusters. Then again, it had also been rather easy to compartmentalize all of her problems what with all of the distractions she had. Like learning a new language. And figuring out how to shave without a safety razor (actually she was still trying to figure that one out). Yes, Alice had always been very good at avoiding her problems...unless she was stuck inside with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company.

If there was one thing Alice did _not_ enjoy it was being locked up in her room like a princess in her proverbial tower. She was a creature of action, of _doing_ , and yet it seemed that her pregnancy had robbed her of _doing anything at all_ . In fact, it seemed the only thing she was able to do was sit around and think... _which was exactly the one thing she had been avoiding for the past six months_.

The closer to D-Day she came the more she was unable to stop her thoughts straying towards the future. But that was _exactly_ the problem. What kind of future did she _truly_ have here? Play mother to a child she had never wanted in a world she had no real place in? Sure the elves had been kind to her and Alice was positive that they wouldn’t be booting her out of Lothlórien anytime soon but she had no real _purpose_ here. Was she expected to rely upon the charity of the elves for the rest of her life? And suppose she _did_ decide to set off on her own, how _exactly_ was she supposed to take care of herself? It’s not like she had any viable skills in this world (something told her that being able to quote her way through _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ didn’t count for much here), though Lord knows Tinuthel had tried her best. And that was completely ignoring the fact that she would soon be caring for an infant and it wasn’t as if she could just drag it along with her while she tried to figure out what the hell she was going to do with her life.

So, suffice to say, Alice was freaking out.

And frankly, what else was she going to do? It’s not as if she had a whole lot of options open to her right now what with the swollen stomach and swollen ankles and well...swollen everything. She was miserable and useless so it was no wonder that she had turned to sulking and panicking.

Irritably, she kicked at her blankets. “I just want this to be _over_.”

She should’ve known not to tempt the Powers That Be.

It came in the middle of the night. One moment she had been dreaming of lying on the beach and then the next she was jolted awake by a strange ‘popping’ sensation between her legs. Alice lay mortified as she felt a gush of liquid soak her sheets. Had she just...did she just _wet the bed_?

She groaned. “Ugh, you’ve gotta be kidding me…”

Awkwardly, she attempted to roll out of bed so she could take care of the mess...and felt a familiar stabbing pain in her womb. For a moment, she was sure that she was just getting menstrual cramps...until she realized that she couldn’t _possibly_ get menstrual cramps and looked back at the mess soaking her sheets and wasn’t able to spy the tell-tale dark spotting of blood. Frowning, she patted her hand on the wet linen and gingerly brought her fingers just under her nose. It...didn’t smell like urine either. So...what was it?

Alice felt her stomach sink just as another pulsing pain shot through her abdomen again.

“Oh no…” She leaned against the wall and felt tears spring forward, unbidden. “Oh no no no no _noooooo_!”

It was only a handful of moments later that her guardians appeared in her doorway, alert and anxious.

“ _Alice_?”

And that was when Alice decided to burst into tears. Concerned, Tinuthel laid a hand on her shoulder as the girl sunk to the floor.

“ _Tinuthel_ ,” Brandir called, and to Alice’s horror she noticed him standing before her bed, examining her soiled sheets.

“No no noooooo!” She wailed incomprehensibly.

Something passed between the couple as the girl cried between them and then suddenly Brandir was crouching before Alice and laying a kiss upon her brow.

“ _All will be well child_.” And then he was gone, out the door to who knew where.

“ _Come,_ ” Tinuthel murmured softly, coaxing Alice upwards. “ _Let us get you cleaned up._ ”

“ _But…_ ” She protested, panic and anxiety leaking from her pores.

“ _I know,_ ” the elleth assured her, speaking gently as if to a frightened animal. “ _But it will not be for some time yet. Now I think a bath will do you good…_ ”

**\---oo0oo---**

Labor, as it turned out, was _not at all_ like the movies made it out to be. The moment she had felt the first stabbing pains in her womb Alice had been convinced that screaming and excruciating pain were soon to follow. So she was confused and almost disappointed when it turned out that the process was _far_ longer and less dramatic than she’d been led to believe.

The pain, though extremely unpleasant, didn’t completely incapacitate her as she’d thought it would (that would come later, as she was to learn) and only came every now and then. In fact, they had plenty of time for Tinuthel to drag Alice off to the bathhouse and then back home again to clean her sheets and fuss about the talan (well, _Tinuthel_ did anyway. Alice mostly just wrung her hands and babbled in English). By the time the sun had begun to rise Brandir appeared once more, though this time with Faendis in tow. All she had to do was take one look at Alice’s hyperventilating form and before she realized what was happening Faendis was snapping orders at the other two elves as if _they_ were in _her_ house.

“ _Fight the others off if you have to,_ ” the elleth ordered Brandir. “ _Cugulir heard us on our way here and you know how she is. I am sure half of Lothlórien knows by now._ ”

Alice choked. “What?!”

Brandir only grinned. “ _Of course._ ” And then he was gone again.

However, before Alice was given the chance to panic over the news that the _entire population_ knew she was about to pop, Faendis took ahold of her arm and drew her down to sit where she could poke and prod at her.

“ _Now tell me, when did the pain begin…_ ”

And so the day went with Faendis poking and prodding at her some more, Tinuthel periodically attempting to force food or drink upon her, and everything interspersed with increasingly painful contractions that always kept her from getting too comfortable. By the time things had finally progressed to the whole pushing and screaming portion of the day, Alice didn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed when Faendis pried her legs open.

“Ugh!” She grunted as she felt another contraction rip through her abdomen. “I’m never having sex again!”

She screamed some more.

When Alice finally felt the queer feeling of her child slipping from her body she felt nothing but relief, no matter that her skin and hair were clammy with sweat and that she had never felt more unattractive in her life. All she cared about in that moment was that _it was over_.

Faendis gathered the tiny wailing creature in her arms and distantly Alice heard someone say, “ _It is a girl!_ ” and then “ _She is so pale!_ ”

She lifted her head to catch a glimpse of the noisy thing in the elleth’s arms but was instead surprised by a sudden contraction that ripped through her like lightning. The pain startled all of the air out of her lungs and she let her head fall back again heavily.

As if through water, she heard someone say, “ _Lady Arwen was right!_ ”

And that was how Alice found out she was having _twins_.

The second child was easier than the first though no less agonizing. Her daughter’s sibling arrived in a much quieter fashion than her first child had, with barely more than a whimper as it was pulled free of her womb. Exhausted, Alice couldn’t bring herself to do much more than glance at the ellyth and their wriggling bundles. In Faendis’s arms she spied dark fingers and toes and a fuzzy black head and as Tinuthel moved forward she glimpsed pale pink skin and wispy hair.

“Huh,” She murmured sleepily. “That’s weird.”

Alice slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know my outline for this story is now officially 47 pages long? And that there are going to be a total of 79 chapters (80 if you include the epilogue)? Yeah, you saw that right. 79 chapters. I’m insane. Why do I do this to myself? 
> 
> Once again, I have to apologize for this chapter being a bit short (and sloppily written) and I'm very sorry for that. Honestly though I was sick of staring at it. I needed to post it if only so I could move forward with the story (and I'm sure you can't blame me for that) so here we are. I hope you forgive me. I might go back to it at some point and tweak it a bit so it flows better but otherwise I'm done with it and will be glad to move onto more interesting things. I mean, can I just say that this chapter was a pain in the ass to write? No, I know I say that about lots of chapters but this one...ugh, this one was the worst. I don't think it'll surprise anyone to know that I am not a mother. I've never given birth myself so writing this chapter involved a lot of researching on the internet as well as drawing upon the knowledge bestowed upon me by all of the women in my life who have been pregnant and given birth (and they all tend to overshare when it comes to the details, which is great for this chapter but not always for my imagination). Needless to say there are probably some inaccuracies somewhere in here and you can blame all of those entirely on me.
> 
> Chapter Timeframe: November 20, 2998 T.A. - January 6, 2999 T.A.
> 
> Today in "Middle Earthean History, Culture, and Geography Notes AKA Stuff I Feel Like Talking About":  
> \--> The title of this chapter comes from the Beatles song of the same name.  
> \--> Laerwen is important. I won’t say why though, that would just spoil the fun (for me).  
> \--> Celebrían was the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, the wife of Elrond, and the mother of Arwen and the twins Elladan and Elrohir. In the year 2509 of the Third Age, on her way from Rivendell to Lothlórien, she was ambushed and captured by orcs. Her sons eventually rescued her but not before she had been tortured to the point that even her husband, the most famed healer in Middle Earth, could not heal her broken mind and spirit. She never recovered and soon sailed across the sea to Valinor.  
> \--> I always find it funny that labor and childbirth are shown to be so chaotic and quick in film and on TV. One moment the woman’s water breaks and then ‘BAM’ she’s screaming as she pushes the baby out. In reality, it takes hours for labor to get to that point. Especially for someone’s first pregnancy and especially if it’s twins. We’re talking anywhere from 10-20 hours on average. Thus while Alice is sitting here panicking and going all, “OMG what am I going to do?!!” Tinuthel is just like, “Bitch please.”
> 
> Sindarin Names and Their Meanings/Pronunciations  
> Laerwen - Summer Maiden (lair-when)  
> Celebrían - Silver Crown-Gift (kell-ebb-ree-ahn)  
> Cugulir - Dove Song (coo-goo-leer)


	6. What's in a Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which stories are exchanged and Celírion is very confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all have been very, very patient with me and I’m very sorry you have to be at all. In my defense, my newest job has been working me to the bone so I really didn’t have any time these last few months to write. Thankfully I’m now in the process of looking for another job so hopefully I’ll have time to write again soon. In the meantime, here’s chapter 6 to tide you over. 
> 
> We’re getting closer now to completely new territory plot-wise. This chapter takes place where the old Chapter Four did, but is from Celírion’s POV instead of Alice’s so it’s still very different perspective-wise from the old chapter. Chapter Seven is where the new stuff really comes into play though, so hang in there. We’re getting there, I promise. ;)

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet."

\- _William Shakespeare_

* * *

  **Lothlórien, 2999 of the Third Age**

Celírion stared at the _considerable_ group of elves loitering at the base of Tinuthel’s talan. They were all just…standing there… _waiting_ . But for _what_? Had something happened while he was away? Just as he was pondering this curious occurrence a familiar blonde head swept past him.

“Ivrellam?”

The elleth turned, glancing over her shoulder at him curiously. There was a basket in her arms. Celírion stared at it.

“Yes?”

“Why is everyone…here?” He began to ask before a sudden thought stopped him in his tracks. “Wait, has…has something happened to Lady Alice?”

Ivrellam was quick to soothe his distress. “Lady Alice is well, Celírion,” a jubilant smile spread across her face then. “In fact, she gave birth to her babes a fortnight ago!”

“Her… _babes_ ?” Celírion repeated, suddenly light-headed. “She has _more_ than one?”

“She has twins!” Ivrellam confirmed happily. “We all came to see them and congratulate her but…“ she paused and glanced up at Tinuthel’s home in the treetop. “No one has seen her since the birth. Tinuthel says she is well but she does not seem to want visitors…”

Though Ivrellam was clearly disappointed by this turn of events Celírion couldn’t say he was all that surprised. Alice was a skittish creature and rarely enjoyed being the center of attention. “She just needs time. I am sure you will get to see the babes soon enough.”

“I suppose…”

A thought suddenly occurred to him them. “Say, what are their names?”

“The babes?”

“Yes.”

Ivrellam shrugged. “I cannot say. Tinuthel has not called them by name. Perhaps Lady Alice is still thinking of some?”

“Perhaps.” He agreed.

**\---oo0oo---**

It didn’t take long for her to appear.

Unlike his overeager brethren, Celírion had the distinct advantage of knowing exactly how his quarry thought. Thus it came as no surprise to him, long after night had fallen and the other elves had gone home, when he heard the telltale creak of Tinuthel’d front door.

“Hello Alice,” He called cheerily when she reached the bottom of the steps. Unsurprisingly she jumped and whirled around so fast her braid nearly smacked him in the face.

“ _Jesus Christ!_ ” Alice cried out, her hand flying to her throat. “You scare me!”

“I apologize,” Celírion responded quickly, clasping his fingers around her arm to steady her. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

Alice mumbled something unintelligible in her native tongue, though Celírion had the amusing suspicion that it was probably not flattering. She looked... _different_ he decided. The great weight at her middle was gone and she seemed to walk freer and more easily now that she had finally been rid of it.

“So...I had babies,” she said finally, drawing his attention back to her face.

Celírion couldn’t help but grin. “Yes. I had heard.”

“Yes. I sure you did,” she groaned and then seemed to remember why she had left her talan and glanced past Celírion’s shoulder towards the east. “I came for bath. I should...go bath.”

“Bathe.” He corrected her with a laugh.

“Right,” she repeated awkwardly. “I go bathe.”

He pressed a hand between her shoulder blades and gently urged her forward. “You go bathe. I will be here when you return.”

She looked back at him eyes bright in the moonlight. “Right…” and then she left.

Celírion settled down at the base of the steps with a smile...and waited.

**\---oo0oo---**

“What are their names?”

Alice made a inquiring noise and half-turned her head towards him in question.

“Your babes,” Celírion clarified. They were both lying back on the grass, heads pressed close to stare at the stars through a gap in the trees above them.

“Mmmm,” she replied with the tone of someone who had been asked that question one too many times. “I have not.”

“Have not?”

“Named them.”

Celírion turned his head toward her completely, confused. “Why?”

He saw her frown. “Names difficult.”

“Perhaps, but your children _should_ have names.” He turned back to the sky. “The elves often name their children for the forest or flowers, or what they believe their children to be. Is it not the same with your people?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes humans name children for family or because they just like name.” Alice shrugged.

“Well what were _you_ named for?”

“A story.”

Celírion perked up at that. He’d never heard a human story before. “What kind of story?”

She was quiet for a moment, as if she wasn’t going to answer him, but then, “Girl named Alice fell down rabbit hole-”

“A rabbit hole? That would be _far_ too small to fall into…”

Celírion thought he saw Alice roll her eyes. “It was _magic_ rabbit hole,” she corrected. “Alice fell down magic rabbit hole and into _Wonderland_.”

“Where is _Wonderland_?”

She paused, thinking about it. “Underground.”

“So it is a cave?”

“No.”

“But-”

Alice was quick to cut him off, “Alice fall into Wonderland and drink bottle that make her small and play _croquet_ with _flamingo_ and meet _Cheshire_ Cat and…” she stopped, as if realizing something. “Actually...it is strange story.”

Celírion blinked at the odd words and could only say, “Are all human stories so strange?”

“No, just this one,” she said. “Are yours?”

“No.”

“Tell me one.”

Celírion thought for a moment, glancing up at the moon. “Well,” he began, “There is the story of Arien and Tilion.”

“Arien and Tllion?”

“The Sun and the Moon.” He explained. “When the world was young the light of the world came from the Two Trees, but when they were cut down by Belegûr the Valar created two vessels to house their last fruit and flower. However, such vessels could not move on their own and so Arien and Tilion, two of the ainur, rose to the task of steering them across the sky every day and every night.”

“Are they gods?” Alice asked, curiously.

“In a way.”

“They sound like gods,” She proclaimed. “In my home, my people have story about sun and moon gods too.”

“Oh?” Celírion urged eagerly. He would never turn down another human story.

“Artemis and Apollo,” Alice yawned. “Artemis was huntress, maiden of the moon, and Apollo was god of music and poetry and the sun. They were twins...” She trailed off, as if suddenly distracted by something.

Celírion lifted his head and turned on his elbow. “Alice?”

She was asleep.

He stared at her a moment, taking in her closed eyelids and wild hair. He had never seen a human sleeping before. It was...peaceful. Carefully, so as not to wake her, Celírion rose and pulled her into his arms.

“It is a shame you could not finish your story,” He whispered as he carried her back towards Tinuthel’s talan. “I would have liked to hear more of your Artemis and Apollo. Another time perhaps?”

Alice did not reply. She only turned her head into his tunic, oblivious to Tilion above as he lit their way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a very long chapter, I know. I promise longer, newer, more exciting stuff is coming though. Hang in there please. I appreciate all of your patience. Truly, I do. 
> 
> Chapter Timeframe: January 19, 2999 T.A. - January 20, 2999 T.A. 
> 
> Today in "Middle Earthean History, Culture, and Geography Notes AKA Stuff I Feel Like Talking About":  
> \--> As I’m sure many of you are aware, Alice in Wonderland is a weird story and trying to explain it to someone who isn’t familiar with it would be difficult, especially with the added language and cultural barrier.  
> \--> Belegûr is the Sindarin name for Morgoth/Melkor.  
> \--> Arien and Tilion were the maiar charged with the steering of the vessels of the sun and moon respectively. Unlike many real-world sun and moon gods, Arien was female and Tilion was male. This is rather unusual as most cultures and religions see this being the reverse, with the sun as male and the moon as female. 
> 
> Sindarin Names and Their Meanings/Pronunciations  
> Ivrellam - Crystalline Voice (eve-rell-ahm)  
> Belegûr - He who arises in might (bell-eh-goor)


	7. Birthday Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alice gets presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in two days?! What is it Christmas in July? But seriously, you are so lucky this got done at all. Pokemon Go is like my productivity's worst nightmare. If the server didn't keep going down I never would've finished this thing. For realz.
> 
> This chapter marks the beginning of brand new material. Nothing but new, exciting plot stuff happens now. Well...right after this bit of filler/fluff. Enjoy it now. The shit’s about the hit the proverbial fan...

“The greatest gift that you can give to others is the gift of unconditional love and acceptance.” - _Brian Tracy_

* * *

  **Lothlórien, 2999 of the Third Age**

“ _Artemis be nice._ ”

Alice didn’t even bother to look up from book as she flipped through the pages. She didn’t need to. She knew that wailing all too well.

“ _Oh, but you are nothing but lovely are you not little Bregwen?_ ” Arwen protested, cradling Alice’s daughter close. The traitorous creature giggled. Try as she might, Alice couldn’t help but feel the jealousy worm its way into her heart. For some reason Artemis only ever seemed to smile and laugh for everyone _but_ her. _She_ , on the other hand, only seemed to incite screaming and hair-pulling. Bitter, she turned to her son only to find him blinking up at the sunlight, as quiet and as peaceful as she had left him.

“I know I’m not supposed to have a favorite,” Alice whispered as she reached for Apollo and pulled him into her lap. He blinked up at her owlishly, the same way he had the sun, and his mother couldn’t help but kiss him and murmur into his ear, “But you’re _definitely_ my favorite.”

The spring sunshine warmed her face as she lifted it to the gap in the treetops. Elvish magic or no, it had been a long winter and Alice was more than happy to see the back of it.

“ _What were you looking for in your book?_ ”

Sleepily, she bit back a yawn and turned to her friend. “Hmmm?”

“ _Your book. You seemed to be searching for something in it. Did you find it?_ ”

“Oh!” Alice settled her son into the crook of one arm as she reached for her book with the other. She nearly flipped past the page she’d been looking for before she found it. She smoothed the parchment out and laid her hand down on the other half of the book to keep it from flipping closed. Her eyes traced the calendar she had drawn there several months before, so that she might keep track of the days since she had arrived here.

It was May 12th. Five days after her birthday…she had missed her birthday. How strange…she had _never_ missed her birthday before.

“ _Lady Alice? Are you well?_ ”

Arwen’s words jerked her back to reality.

“ _Yes. I’m fine,_ ” She began, but then glanced back at the parchment to stare at the number _seven_ written neatly under the word _May_ . “ _It’s just...my birthday. We missed it._ ” As she said the words though, she realized how stupid it must sound to a lady who had lived a _hundred_ times what she had. After all, what were _birthdays_ to someone who _never_ grew old? Who had no _need_ of tracking the passage of time?

“ _Oh!_ ” Arwen’s exclamation pulled her from her thoughts. “ _I did not know you were born in the springtime. How wonderful!_ ” Artemis giggled at the elleth’s good cheer and clapped her hands excitedly. “ _Oh, but if I had known I would have given you a gift!_ ”

Alice blinked. “ _A...gift?_ ”

“ _Of course!_ ” Arwen affirmed. “ _Is that not the custom amongst humans?_ ” And then added, hesitantly, “ _...Unless I am mistaken?_ ”

“ _No!_ ” Alice protested. “ _No. You were right the first time. I just didn’t think that elves..._ ” she trailed off self-consciously.

“... _Exchanged gifts because our years are so great in number?_ ” the elleth finished for her, amused. “ _I assure you, we enjoy gifts as much as anyone, and we love nothing more than to find excuses to share them._ ”

“Oh.” Arwen laughed as she flushed with embarrassment.

“ _Do not worry, my friend. I can see how you might develop such an impression of us. But after your time here, do you truly think we would be so adverse to such pleasures?_ ”

Alice smiled then, thinking of Celírion and Lúthiril.

“ _No. I suppose not._ ”

**\---oo0oo---**

Word eventually spread far and wide that Alice had grown a year older, for by the end of the day she found herself accepting gifts not just from Arwen, but _literally_ _everyone_.

“Oh! Ummm _, thank you..._ ” She said lamely as the fifth elf in the last hour handed her a basket. She was starting to think that maybe she shouldn’t have told Arwen about her birthday after all. She could barely take down her laundry anymore without running into someone intent upon thrusting gifts and well-wishes upon her. Alice glanced over the basket’s contents and groaned inwardly. _More_ food.

“They don’t really believe I can eat all of this do they?”

Warily, she glanced about as she gathered up her laundry and gift baskets, hoping that no one else would appear to shower her with more _stuff_. There was only so much she could carry home in one trip.

She should’ve known better.

“ _Alice!_ ”

Though she recognized the voice, Alice couldn’t help flinching with surprise as she was caught off guard. Too late, her carefully folded laundry and baked goods went tumbling to the ground. Quick as lightning, a pair of hands shot out and saved the pastries. Unfortunately her dresses weren’t nearly as lucky.

Alice sighed.

“ _Hello Celírion._ ”

“ _I apologize,_ ” the ellon said sheepishly, placing the pastries into the basket and handing it to her. “ _I did not mean to startle you._ ”

“You wouldn’t startle me if you didn’t sneak up on me...” Alice murmured in English as she gathered her laundry from the ground and attempted to shake the grass from them. “ _What brings you here?_ ”

“ _You,_ ” Celírion proclaimed happily and Alice suddenly noticed the carefully wrapped bundle in his arms. “ _Arwen told me that you had missed your birthday recently and so I...I did not have time to make you anything but...I hoped that maybe this would suffice..._ ”

Alice stared as he slowly unraveled the bundle to reveal...a blanket. It was green, like the new buds of spring just unfurling on the trees, with detailed golden embroidery along the edges depicting tiny songbirds and leaves so delicate you could see the individual veins. And it was _small_. So small, by no means large enough to fit the length of her own bed. But perhaps…

She swallowed. Her throat suddenly dry. “ _Celírion_ _is this...is this_ yours _?_ ”

Celírion, normally so joyous and bold, actually looked _shy_ . “ _Well...it was mine as a child. However, as you can see, I have long outgrown it._ ” His eyes flicked up to hers, eager, but uncertain. “ _I thought perhaps...you could give it to your children..._ ”

Celírion was giving her his _baby blanket_...to give to _her_ _babies_!

There were so many things she wanted to say in response but all that she managed to choke out was, “ _Are you sure?_ ”

He smiled then and offered the blanket to her. “ _As I said. I have long outgrown it._ ”

But she had only to look at the blanket to know that this was not true. After all, if he hadn’t cared for such a thing why did he _still_ have it after all these years? This was no random article he had pulled off the shelf in his rush to find a gift for her. For something so old it had clearly been well-cared for and she was sure that if she were to lean forward and press it to her face it would _smell_ like him. This blanket was important to him. And he was _giving_ it to _her._

Carefully, reverently, she took it from him, her eyes never leaving his.

“ _Thank you,_ ” she whispered. “ _I’m sure the twins will love it._ ” And so will I, she wanted to add, but the words stayed locked in her mind, never to be uttered allowed.

“ _You are most welcome Alice._ ” And then the spell was broken and he grinned, back to his usual, cheerful self.

“ _Say,_ ” He said, after a moment, as he swept up the remaining laundry from the ground and took ahold of the basket, clearly intent on carrying it for her. “ _How old_ are _you now?_ ”

“ _Twenty._ ”

Celírion nearly sent the laundry tumbling onto the ground again but, unlike Alice, was agile enough to catch it in time. He stared at her, clearly astonished. “ _Truly?_ ”

A slow smile began to spread over her face. “ _Surprised?_ ”

And there he was again, the shy, flustered creature who had shown his face earlier. “ _I just...I did not know humans were so..._ ”

“ _Young?_ ” She was teasing him now.

“ _Well, I mean...you seemed..._ ”

“ _Older?_ ” A thought occurred to her then. It was not a _new_ thought. It had always hung there in the back of her mind but she had never had the opportunity to ask and now...well what better opportunity would she have than _right now_?

“ _Say, Celírion.._ .” she began, garnering his attention. “ _How old are_ you _?_ ”

He paused, as if to think, and then simply said, “ _Two-hundred and forty-three._ ”

This time it was Alice’s turn to look shocked.

“Wait...what?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now you know. Sorry this one is so short again. To be fair though, I posted two chapters within 24 hours of one another. So really, it's like you got one bigger one...just in pieces.
> 
> Chapter Timeframe: May 12, 2999 T.A.
> 
> Today in "Middle Earthean History, Culture, and Geography Notes AKA Stuff I Feel Like Talking About":  
> \--> Anybody else notice Alice’s language has improved? Well, to be fair, we did skip ahead 4 months and seeing as how it’s been nearly a year since she landed herself in Lothlórien, it makes sense that Alice has developed a certain fluency in Sindarin that she didn’t have before. Well...that and I can only write halting, broken speech for so long before I become exhausted by it. I guess I’m the only one excited by this. Ah well.  
> \--> Alice’s birthday, in case you didn’t catch it, is May 7th, 1989. May 7th is also my younger brother’s birthday.  
> \--> Fabric can totally last over 250 years, as long as it’s well preserved. We have samples of fabric sitting in museums that are four or five times that age. And speaking of age...  
> \--> Yes. Celírion is 243 years old. For an elf though, that’s very young. That’s basically the elvish equivalent of being in your 20s. I mean Jesus, Galadriel is somewhere around 8,000 or so. 243 is nothing. 
> 
> Sindarin Names and Their Meanings/Pronunciations  
> Bregwen - Wild Maiden (bray-gwhen)


	8. Somewhere Over The Rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Dynamic Duo go on a road trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmygod plot stuff! You have no idea how long I’ve waited to write plot stuff! Yaaaaaay PLOT!!!

"There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered." - _Nelson Mandela_

* * *

  **Lothlórien, 2999 of the Third Age**

Celírion was uncharacteristically quiet as he ascended the smooth wooden steps to a place he had never before set foot.

They had _called_ upon him! The _Lord_ and _Lady_ ! To their _court_!

He felt all at once jubilant and ill.

After all, _why_ would the Lord and Lady call upon him _at all_ ? He did not hail from a house of great repute like the Lords Aragorn or Megilthor nor had he done any great deeds warranting any sort of gratitude. His father was a Silvan elf from Mirkwood and his mother, though lauded for her enchanting singing voice, was a common Teleri from Mithlond. If his parents were of no consequence to their Lord and Lady why would they ever take an interest in _him_?

Anxious, he climbed the steps alongside the messenger who had come to fetch him and tried to appear unconcerned. He didn’t succeed. In fact, he stared wondrously upon the elegant ceiling that arced over their heads as they entered the hall at the top of the steps. Though all of Caras Galadhon was beautiful, there was something about this place that clearly set it apart from the rest of the city. As if light itself were painted into the very walls.

“Ah, there you are child.”

Celírion’s eyes snapped back down, alighting on the couple standing upon the dais at the end of the hall. And the third, dusky-skinned figure who stood before them.

Hastily, he bowed low, though not before he could wipe the shocked look from his face. What was _she_ doing here?!

“My Lord. My Lady. I am yours to command.”

“And command you we must,” Celeborn’s voice rang like thunder throughout the hall. “Rise my child. We have a task for you.”

Celírion obeyed, curious. He had never been given a task from his Lord or Lady before. Not directly anyway. Instead of speaking though, Celeborn turned to Alice and motioned for _her_ to speak.

“I need to leave Lothlórien.”

Whatever he had been expecting her to say, this was not it.

Alice seemed to see this however, and quickly elaborated, “Only for a few days. I just need to visit the place I was found. The shack with the apple tree.”

“I...see.” Actually he did _not_ see but he wasn’t about to say so in front of his Lord and Lady.

“She has asked for you to be her guide,” Galadriel supplied helpfully.

“Forgive my ignorance but would Ruinthir not be better suited for this task?” Celírion asked cautiously. “After all, was it not _he_ who rescued Alice? Surely he would know the area better than myself...”

“She asked for you specifically,” Celeborn answered. “I have faith that you will see her to her destination safely.”

“Of course!” Celírion said automatically, a century’s worth of conditioning forcing him to agree to anything his Lord commanded of him. Even ferry a human girl into the wild in search of...something.

“Good. You may leave when you are able. Take whatever supplies you think you may need.” Celeborn turned away but was stopped by Alice.

“Thank you, Lord Celeborn. Lady Galadriel. You do not understand the boon that you’ve given me, but you do so anyway. I appreciate it.”

Galadriel stepped down from the dais then, and laid a kiss upon the girl’s brow. “Oh, but I do.”

And then they turned away, dismissing the two without a word.

**\---oo0oo---**

Celírion came for her two days later.

They had agreed that they would need a few days to prepare (mostly Alice) and so when the fateful day dawned, Celírion found her waiting for him at the base of her steps, dressed in a tunic and breeches with a bulging pack at her feet.

“We will only be gone for a few days,” he said, deliberately eyeing her pack. “What did you bring?”

“Stuff,” Alice replied defensively.

Celírion knew that look. Wisely, he let the matter go and instead slung her bag over his shoulder and motioned for her to follow. Obediently, she fell into step beside him as he led the way across Caras Galadhon and through its gates.

“Wait...are we _walking_ there?” Alice asked suddenly, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her.

Celírion choked back a laugh. “No. We’ll be riding.” He informed her as he led her in the direction of the stables.

“A horse?”

“Of course,” he began before a horrifying thought occurred to him. “You _have_ ridden a horse before have you not?”

Alice rolled her eyes. “Yes, Celírion. I’ve ridden a horse before.”

However, he remained skeptical all the way to the stables. Instead of leading her straight into the stables however, he led her to the paddock beside it where a dozen or more horses grazed lazily. He clicked his tongue and a slender roan mare trotted up to the fence.

“I know what _you_ want,” he said amusedly as the creature sniffed at him expectantly. From his pack, he pulled out an apple and she snatched it greedily from his open palm.

Alice looked on, clearly taken with her. “She’s beautiful!”

“She would agree with you,” Celírion laughed good-naturedly. “This is Rochiril.”

Alice whispered unintelligible things as she stroked Rochiril’s nose.

“Is she yours?”

“Yes. Though sometimes she gives me the impression that _I_ am _hers_.”

She laughed and kissed her nose. “Yes, I’m sure she does.”

Celírion smiled as he opened the gate to the paddock and then led Rochiril to the stables where he could saddle her. Alice fingered the tack as he quickly secured it all into place. When he reached for her though, intending to boost her up, she was already expertly swinging herself into the saddle.

She grinned. “I told you. I’ve ridden a horse before.”

“Yes, I can see that now,” he said, impressed. There was an easiness to her in the saddle that he’d never seen in her before. A moment later he was swinging himself up behind her, her back pressed tightly to his front. Her hair tickled his neck and chin...he’d never touched her hair before. It was soft… Celírion blinked, shaking such thoughts from his head, and quickly took ahold of the reins.

It was going to be a _long_ day.

**\---oo0oo---**

The ride through Lothlórien went smoothly and before he knew it they were leaving the cover of the trees behind. Celírion knew exactly when they had crossed the threshold because he felt the telltale ripple of magic skitter over his skin like an army of tiny insects. In front of him, he felt Alice inhale. Ah, she had felt it too then.

The sun was high in the sky as they rode into the open plains. Though he had not been amongst the group who had rescued Alice, it wasn’t difficult to figure out where it was she intended for them to go. There was only one ‘old shack with an apple tree’ between Lorien and Fangorn and it had once belonged to an old woman. One of the only humans brave enough to venture so close to the Lord and Lady’s wood. She had died long before his time as a marchwarden though and so he had only ever known the shack as a quiet, abandoned place.

It didn’t take long to find it. By midday they were riding into the valley where the ruined building stood, but strangely, instead of calling for them to stop, Alice asked him to keep moving.

“I thought that this was the place you wanted to visit?” He asked, confused.

“No. This was where the elves _found_ me. I’m looking for a place further upstream, where I started.”

“Where you _started_ ?” Celírion repeated, even more confused. What did _that_ mean? However, Alice didn’t answer him, and instead took control of the reins and guided Rochiril into a trot towards the stream at the base of the hill.

And so they rode alongside the stream for a time, with Alice glancing about as if searching something and Celírion dwelling upon the words _where I started_ as if they held some clue to his friend’s mysterious behavior. Eventually they came to a stop but, as it turned out, not because they had arrived at their destination.

“What are you doing?” He asked, brows furrowed as Alice swung down from the saddle and began to wander off.

She looked back, giving him an exasperated look. “Don’t look.”

He was _very_ confused now. “What do you mean?”

Her agitated look only grew more pronounced. “I have to _go_.”

“Go? Go _where_?” What was she _on_ about? Was she _seriously_ about to wander off on _her_ _own_?

“Celírion,” she huffed, tilting her head back. “We’ve been riding a long time.”

“Yes, I suppose-”

“And I need to empty my bladder now.”

Oh.

Celírion flushed and hastily turned his head away to look at something, _anything_ but Alice as she went off to...his ears grew hot.

“You know,” She said when she had wandered back and swung herself back up into the saddle. He was even more aware of the warmth of her back than before. “If this kind of intimacy bothers you, I can't imagine how you'd react if we were married."

Celírion was eternally grateful that she could not see his face in that moment.

**\---oo0oo---**

They stopped for the night just as the sun began to set.

“Shouldn’t we build a fire?” Alice asked curiously when Celírion reached for their packs and pulled out some lembas and fruit.

“It is far too warm for a fire,” he replied pointedly eyeing her rolled sleeves and bare feet. ”Besides, orcs wander these lands at night. A fire would only announce our presence.”

“Oh,” she said. “I guess that makes sense.”

Before he could stop himself, he asked, “How did you survive out here alone?” It didn’t take much to surmise that she had few survival skills. Though she was skilled with a horse she did not seem to be aware of the dangers in the wilds. She could read and write (though only in her native language) but was unable to grasp the basics of mending or embroidery. He would’ve thought her a foreign noble of some kind but her lack of manners and her familiarity with he and the common people of Lothlórien told a different story.

“Oh, well,” she began, her eyes cast downward as if she were embarrassed. “I suppose I was lucky.”

“Ruinthir told me that you had no supplies with you when they found you. No horse. No _clothing_ .” _What happened to you_ , he wanted to add but then he decided perhaps such a question was best left for a later time.

“I didn’t exactly _plan_ this trip. It just sort of...happened.” She fell silent after that, eyes distant as she watched Rochiril graze at the edge of the stream.

“I think Eru must be fond of you...” he whispered, too quiet for her ears. He handed her a peach then and said, much more loudly, “Eat.” She took the fruit but went back to staring into the distance, the peach dangling from her limp fingers, forgotten.

Celírion watched her stay that way until she fell asleep.

**\---oo0oo---**

“It is time to wake Alice.”

A low, rumbling growl was his only answer. He laid a hand on her shoulder, but Alice rolled her face into her pack.

“Nooooooo…”

“It is well past dawn.”

More groaning and grumbling followed before the girl finally rolled into a sitting position, eyes still bleary with sleep. Her hair was in complete disarray, most of it having come free from her braid during the night. Celírion’s eyes rose into his hairline.

Alice noticed and growled, “Not. One. Word.”

Wisely, he kept silent and went about re-saddling Rochiril while Alice wandered over to the stream.

By the time his mare was saddled and ready to go, Alice had pulled her hair back into a knot at the base of her skull and washed the grime from her face. She smothered a yawn behind her hand and climbed into the saddle only slightly less gracefully than she had the day before.

“Is this what Tinuthel deals with every morning?” Celírion teased as he climbed behind her and set Rochiril into a brisk trot.

“I’m not a morning person,” she replied as if that explained everything.

“What, pray tell, _is_ a _morning person_?”

“Elves.”

**\---oo0oo---**

“I think this is it.”

Celírion stared at the long expanse of yellow grass, virtually indistinguishable from the other yellow grass that they had been exploring for the last day and a half.

“Are you sure?”

But Alice was already climbing down to investigate and he had no choice but to follow.

“I don’t understand,” he began cautiously, following behind her as she brushed her hands against the sun-bleached stalks. “How do you _know_?”

“I just do,” she shrugged, closing her eyes and turning her face up to the sun. “It just feels...familiar. You know?”

Actually he didn’t know. He didn’t know at all, but then this also wasn’t his trip. It was hers. If she said that this was the place then he would just have to trust her. Thus, Celírion left to unsaddle Rochiril and make camp while she wandered through the grass, lost in thought. He watched her though. She was like a ghost. Silent, unaware of the world around her.

It was unlike her.

She came to him at last as the sky turned flame-bright and the stars began to peek beyond the horizon.

“I have a favor to ask of you.”

He sprang to his feet.

“Anything.”

“I need a stick.”

 _That_ caught him off guard. “...A stick?”

“Yes. A big one. Do you think there are any around here?”

Truthfully he didn’t think there would be but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

“I will find you a stick.” Even if it took him all night.

Thankfully, he wouldn’t be required to search all night for just as he began to look, he found a large branch hidden in the grass not far from camp. It was even stripped clean of any twigs or forks. Perhaps Eru really _was_ fond of her…

Curious, Celírion brought his find back to Alice and she declared it acceptable. He watched avidly as she pulled a knife from her pack and began to carve tiny foreign letters into the end. He had no idea what it was supposed to say but he could tell that it was important to her so he left her to it. She wasn’t at it long though, before she was soon asking him to drive it into the ground.

“Just deep enough so it’ll hold,” she explained. He complied easily, driving it deep until the top rested just below his thigh. And then...she sat there, knees folded to her chest, eyes roaming over words only she could understand.

It reminded him of a sight he’d seen only once before, when he was still a child. An ellon had died of a mortal wound sustained during battle and his body had been laid to rest under a mallorn tree. He had not yet understood the nature of death and the gathering of so many elves to mourn had been an alien experience for him.

Had someone died here? Who was she mourning? The questions burned in his mind but he dared not utter them aloud. Whatever she mourned, it was best to leave her to do so in peace.

**\---oo0oo---**

He didn’t even notice her leave her...grave? Memorial? He was unsure what to call it until she put a name to it aloud. She appeared at his side late into the night, when the stars were high in the sky and he had been humming a hymn to Elbereth.

“That’s a pretty song.”

He didn’t reply, only stared at her in the starlight. She was apprehensive, her fingers picking at the grass nervously.

“If I tell you something, will you promise not to ask questions?”

What a strange request! He sat up straighter and leaned forward curiously. “You are shaking!” He noticed with alarm. “Are you well?”

“Have you ever had something unexplainable happen to you? And you knew that if you ever told anyone they would never believe you?”

Celírion stared, wide-eyed. What was she going to tell him? “I have not.”

She took a deep breath through her nose, as if readying herself. “My home...is very, very far away...” she began.

And then she told him _everything_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Here we go. Shit’s about to get real.
> 
> Chapter Timeframe: July 2, 2999 T.A. - July 6, 2999 T.A.
> 
> Today in "Middle Earthean History, Culture, and Geography Notes AKA Stuff I Feel Like Talking About":  
> \--> There aren’t really any notes for this chapter to be honest. Just a lot of traveling and secret divulging...you know, the usual.  
> \--> For those who didn’t quite catch it, Alice was going back to the place she woke up in Middle Earth so she could mourn her old life and put it to rest. Normally I see this sort of thing happen in other Modern OC fics at the end, but it’s already been over a year and I think even Alice knows that she’s never going home. This was her way of dealing with that and moving on with her life. Obviously Celírion noticed none of this since it’s all from his POV and she’s doing all of this soul-searching internally.  
> \--> Yes, she really told him everything. He is one very, very confused boy right now. Poor thing.  
> \--> The words Alice carved into the stick were the first initials of her grandparents (M - Marie & V - Viktor), her parents (J - Jackson & L - Laura), and herself (A - Alice).  
> Sindarin Names and Their Meanings/Pronunciations  
> Rochiril - Horse Lady (row-keer-eel)


	9. Do You Believe in Magic?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alice spills her guts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. It’s been forever and I’m sure you hate (or have forgotten) me by now and honestly I wouldn’t blame you. 2016 was quite a tumultuous year, both personally and for the world at large, and it didn’t leave me much time or energy to write. In between all of the insane politics, celebrity deaths, and my failing health (8 trips to the ER in 8 months so you could say I had at least a few legit reasons for skipping on the fic writing) this past year has just not been very conductive to getting this damn chapter out. But whatever, it’s here now and that’s all that matters. It looks like things are finally getting more stable (at least my health and finances) though so hopefully that means more chapters are on the way in a more timely manner. Fingers crossed.

"There are no secrets that time does not reveal." - _Jean Racine_

* * *

  **Lothlórien, 2999 of the Third Age**

She had been putting it off ever since they had got back.

She had to talk to Galadriel.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t think this moment would come, it’s just before there had been a bit of a language barrier. And then she had been busy with that whole pregnancy thing. And then babies. And stuff.

And, you know, Galadriel was kinda scary.

And so, this was how Alice found herself in Galadriel’s Garden, simultaneously attempting to hunt down the Lady in question...as well as avoid her completely. It was like a strange game she was playing with herself. She would ask random passerbyers where Galadriel was...only to walk in the complete opposite direction of where they pointed. Eventually she would actually gather the courage to go after the elleth but the moment she would catch sight of her Alice would suddenly feel her stomach churn and then she couldn’t flee fast enough (like the coward she was). Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it) for Alice though, Galadriel took the decision from her and found _her_ instead.

“ _I was wondering when you would speak to me._ ”

Alice nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun around to face the elleth behind her only to nearly lose her footing and topple over.

 _Smooth_.

“Jesus!” She exclaimed in English and then, in Sindarin, “ _Galadriel! I mean, Lady Galadriel...I mean...ummm...well…_ ” Her heart was beating a mile a minute and Alice found herself at a loss for words. Galadriel smiled at her though and laid a pale hand on her arm. Immediately she felt the anxiousness leech out of her as if she were slipping into a hot bath.

“ _Forgive me,_ ” the elleth said sweetly, as if she could ever do anything needing forgiving. “ _Now, you wished to speak with me did you not?_ ”

Alice felt herself at a loss. Galadriel was giving her an opening and yet she had no idea where to even begin. _Hi, I’m actually from the future/another world and I know exactly what’s going to happen soon because I watched it in a movie once?_ Yeah, that was sure to go over well. Because, you know, the _last_ _time_ she had met with the Lady had gone _so well_...a thought niggled at the back of her mind like a worm trying to burrow its way through her skull...and then struck her like a bolt of lightning.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“ _You know...don’t you?_ ” She said it almost accusingly.

“ _I do_ ,” The Lady confirmed. “ _Though I cannot say I understand it_.”

Of course. She had known everything from the start. Ever since that first day when she had come to pick through Alice’s mind.

“ _I saw many things in your mind. Strange things. Familiar things. I think it time you explained them._ ”

“ _That’s..._ ” she began hesitantly. “ _...fair._ ” Alice’s eyes avoided Galadriel’s as she mumbled hurriedly, “I...wasn’tborninMiddleEarth.”

She thought she heard a smile in the elleth’s voice as she replied, “ _Nor was I._ ”

Alice frowned as she glanced back up. That couldn’t be right. “ _I...don’t understand._ ”

“ _We have much in common, you and I,_ ” Galadriel continued wryly. “ _Both banished from far away lands, forced to build a life and a family in a strange new place, both gifted with foreknowledge, with magic..._ ”

“ _Magic?_ ” Alice couldn’t help but scoff. “ _I think I would’ve known if I was_ magic _._ ”

“ _Oh, but there is magic in you dear child, though I know you do not see it,_ ” her hands drifted through the air around Alice’s head as if feeling for invisible strings. “ _Eru’s touch is upon you. I saw it when you came through my wood._ ”

“ _God did this?_ ” Alice sputtered. “ _But why?!_ ”

“ _Who can say what the whims of the Creator are? Perhaps He brought you to share what you know? Or perhaps He is just fond of you? I suppose it does not truly matter. You are here._ ” She said this last part as if to say, _what can you do?_

Alice fought the urge to scream and instead said, “ _Okay, let’s say He brought me all this way to warn you about the things to come...will you listen?_ ”

“ _If Eru has sent me a messenger, than I would be a fool not to listen to her,_ ” Galadriel reasoned.

Alice heaved a sigh. “ _Where do I even begin?_ ”

The Lady smiled. “ _Where we all do, at the beginning._ ”

**\---oo0oo---**

Strangely, Galadriel took the news of Alice’s odd origins and her knowledge of Middle Earth’s dark future in stride.

“ _It seems there is much to be done._ ”

Alice felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders.

“What will you do?”

“ _You say the ring is with a halfling across the mountains yes?_ ”

Alice nodded.

“ _Then we must send for Mithrandir._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know, but you wouldn’t believe the trouble I’ve had with it. I feel like this chapter fought me at every turn. Galadriel is just not an easy character to write yo. :/ Much longer chapter next time though, pinky promise. Also more Celírion (which I’m sure some of you will be thrilled with). 
> 
> Chapter Timeframe: July 9, 2999 T.A. - July 28, 2999 T.A.
> 
> Today in "Middle Earthean History, Culture, and Geography Notes AKA Stuff I Feel Like Talking About":  
> \--> Just so we’re clear, Alice being ‘magical’ doesn’t mean she is magical. She isn’t suddenly going to be throwing fireballs anytime soon. It’s just a mark of Eru’s involvement in her appearing in Middle Earth by...well, you know, magic. It’s also the only reason Galadriel let her into Lothlórien in the first place. Alice has much to thank (and condemn) Eru for. On one hand, if He hadn’t left his mark upon her she probably would’ve still been wandering around all alone in the wilderness (or, more likely, dead), but on the other hand if he hadn’t mysteriously taken an interest in her she’d still be safe back in Munich or Boston. Then again...we wouldn’t have a story sooo...thanks Eru?


	10. One of These Things Is Not Like The Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Celírion meets a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not drill! I repeat, this is not a drill! This is indeed an update! Shocking I know. To say the past year (and the past seven or eight months in particular) has been awful for me would be a gross understatement. But you can read all about that in the notes at the end of this chapter. I know what you’re really here for...Plot! So much plot! Things are finally happening! And is that a familiar OC I spy?!
> 
> Also, I apologize in advance for the disjointness of this chapter. I wrote much of it while high on a combination of pain meds and anti-nausea meds. So if anything feels kind of wonky in this chapter just blame it on that. I certainly do.

One of these things is not like the other

One of these things just doesn't belong,

Can you tell which thing is not like the others

By the time I finish my song?

\- _Sesame Street_

* * *

**The Northern Bank of Sîr Ninglor, 2999 of the Third Age**

“You are very quiet.”

Celírion glanced up from the flickering fire to catch Lagorwen’s concerned gaze. “Pardon?”

She gave him _a look_. “I have not heard a single word from you since we left Lothlórien. It is very unlike you.”

He cringed inwardly, realizing that she was right. He hadn’t spoken at all since Galadriel had sent them along on a special quest to Imladris. But what could he say without sounding positively mad? In truth, he was not entirely sure that he was not. Alice’s story was...fantastic, to say the least, and he _would_ be mad to believe her. And yet...it was impossible _not to_. She had never been anything but sincere with him and to disbelieve her now would be to turn his back on their friendship. Still...

“I apologize. I have had much to think on.”

Lagorwen’s brows raised but she wisely let the matter lie and instead said, “I will always be here should you need a sympathetic ear.”

He smiled. “Thank you, my friend.”

Nothing else was said then and the two lapsed into companionable silence and stared into the flickering flames until dawn.

**\---oo0oo---**

Little was said on their trip through Hithaeglir. Too many enemies lurked in the shadows and caves of the mountains and thus the three elves were eager to move through the area as quickly and as silently as possible. Not that Celírion was all that eager to speak with either of his companions anyway. _Especially_ Brandir. They had exactly one thing in common between them and Celírion was not yet ready to discuss the other ellon’s fosterling. Alice’s story still plagued his mind and the last thing he needed was to discuss such things with the one who cared for her as a daughter. That did bring up the question though...who else had she shared her story with? Did Brandir even know of her extraordinary origins? Did Tinuthel? Did the Lord and Lady?

These were the thoughts that haunted Celírion’s journey through the mountains and down the other side. So distracted was he, in fact, that he hardly noticed their descent into the green valley below until they were greeted by a familiar group of faces.

“Lo!” came a call from the treetops. A nimble figure dropped to the forest floor with an amiable smile and mussed braids. “Welcome my friends!”

“Naurvir,” Brandir said warmly. “It is good to see you my friend.”

Several more march-wardens appeared then, falling from the trees like leaves to greet their brethren on the ground. “And you! What news from Lothlórien?”

“Things are well,” Brandir replied good-naturedly. “However, I am afraid it is duty that calls us here, not pleasure. The Lady has sent us in search of Mithrandir.”

“Ah.” There were murmurs throughout the group before another ellon answered, “He went west last I heard. To visit with the halflings for the summer.”

Celírion heard Lagorwen mutter something that sounded an awful lot like ‘of course’ under her breath. Mithrandir’s fondness for the halflings of Eriador was no secret, though it was a quirk many had a difficult time comprehending. Celírion, however, was not one of them.

Halflings! He had never seen a halfling before, though of course he had heard stories from his kin in Imladris and the Dúnedain who visited from time to time.

“I see,” Brandir said, thoughtful. “We must speak with Lord Elrond then.”

There was much nodding and murmurs of agreement from the group and before long everyone was moving westward, towards Imladris.

**\---oo0oo---**

Imladris was...Imladris. Same as it had always been. Peaceful and soothing and almost like home and Celírion breathed in the sweetness of it like a long lost lover as they wandered into the hall.

Brandir broke off from the group to speak with Lord Elrond’s seneschal when Celírion heard a familiar cry ring throughout the hall.

“Celírion!” The ellon in question barely had time to turn to meet it before the breath was knocked from his lungs in a flurry of dark hair and skirts.

“Gwalothiel!” Celírion exclaimed, delighted. “My dear sister!”

“It has been far too long since your last visit,” accused his sister happily, uncaring of the week’s worth of travel grime he was currently tracking all over the front of her dress.

“Yes, what a terrible brother I am,” Celírion teased. “Defending our mother from orcs and goblins.”

“Well,” Gwalothiel said, pulling back only for Celírion to pluck away a stray leaf that had made its way into her dark hair. “I suppose you are here now.” She suddenly seemed to notice the motley group accompanying him then and her smile faltered. “But you are not here just for me are you?”

Her brother at least had the decency to sound disappointed. “Unfortunately not.”

She nodded, understanding. “Well we shall just have to make the most of it. Túrgil has painted a new mural in the east wing. You must see it! I think it is truly one of his best works! And I know how fond you are of the tales of Tuor…”

Celírion lit up. “Tuor?!” he asked, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.

Gwalothiel laughed. “Oh yes. Come brother. Let us get you washed up first. You look like you trekked across half of Middle Earth to get here.” This earned her a playful shove.

“Very funny.”

**\---oo0oo---**

As it turned out, the march-wardens had been correct and Mithrandir had indeed gone west which of course meant that there was nothing for it but to wait for him to come back.

Gwalothiel was more than overjoyed by this fact and proceeded to welcome her younger brother back into her life and home as if they’d never been apart. Her husband, though pleasant enough, took about as much notice of his intrusion into their lives as he ever did. Which was to say he spent all of his time painting and only ever seemed to notice anyone around him at meal times. But that was artists for you. Celírion didn’t hold it against him. Gwalothiel adored him and he adored her and that was all that really mattered.

So Celírion took to treating the time as something of an unexpected holiday and when he wasn’t trailing after his sister he was catching up with old friends. Which is exactly how he ended up in the courtyard one crisp early autumn day, sparring with the twins.

“You are getting slow,” Elrohir teased as he sidestepped the thrust of Celírion’s spear.

“Spears are _not_ my weapon,” Celírion called back, almost petulantly. He had thought to get in some practice with a weapon he was less, well, _practiced_ with, but he had clearly overestimated himself when he had asked for Elrohir to be his sparring partner. He thrust again but Elrond’s son just knocked his weapon aside like the angry blow of a kitten.

“That is because your feet are too close together,” said an unfamiliar voice.

Celírion looked up...only to get smacked in shoulder with the flat of Elrohir’s sword.

“That was for letting yourself get distracted.” Celírion gave him a dirty look before turning to the ellon who has spoken. He was blonde and tall, taller than he or the twins, but most strange of all, a woman walked beside him.

A _human_ woman.

“Not everyone is going to be as skilled with a spear as you are Ilva,” the woman said wryly. She was... _different_ than the other Dúnedain women who came to Imladris from time to time, though she seemed perfectly ordinary. Especially next to her tall, blonde companion, she seemed almost to blend into the background with her plain features and dark braid. And yet...there was still...something... _off_ about her.  

“You are an archer, are you not?” the blonde ellon asked, pulling Celírion’s attention away from his companion.

“That I am.”

“That explains your stance,” the ellon said, unhelpfully.

“Now Ilva, be nice,” the woman teased. Her eyes flickered to Celírion’s and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity there, though he had no idea why. The woman, seeing disquiet, decided then to introduce herself.

“The rude one is Ilvanandil.”

“And this fair lady is Lewsë,” offered Elrohir.

“Lucy,” she corrected and Celírion couldn’t help but recall his first meeting with Alice. _Al-iss_ , she had corrected him then too, hissing the sound through her teeth like a snake.

“Lucy,” he said, almost to himself, and the lady in question glanced up at him then, smiling.

“Indeed,” she said.

And then he saw it.

In her eyes. In _both_ their eyes. The same light that could be seen in Lord Glorfindel’s or the Lady Galadriel’s.

The light of the Two Trees of Valinor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so you may have noticed that I’ve been M.I.A. for a while and you can rest well knowing it’s not because I’ve abandoned this fic or gone on permanent hiatus or anything like that. I’ve actually had a bit of a rough year to be honest. Earlier this year I started having severe pain in my abdomen but no doctor seemed to know what was wrong with me. I was in and out of ERs and various doctor’s offices for months. Eventually I found a doctor who agreed to do surgery and open me up (I’d already had numerous blood tests, x-rays, ultrasounds and CT scans come up negative for anything so this was the next step) and lo and behold we finally discovered the cause of my pain. The bad news is, it’s an incurable disease with few treatment options (it’s basically like having cancer, but instead of killing you, it just makes you miserable enough to want to die...and also occasionally causes kidney failure...which does kill you...so there’s that) and I haven’t had any health insurance all year which means I’ve had no access to said treatments (you have no idea how much I hate the American healthcare system right now). Thus, I spent all year in daily agony which, as you can imagine, has left me little drive to want to write when all I really want to do is curl up and die. To give you a better idea of what I’ve been experiencing, you want to know what I was doing on Christmas morning? Lying in a hospital bed in so much agony that I was vomiting uncontrollably (and when you’re in so much pain that you vomit, then you know it’s really bad). Even after four doses of zofran (an anti-nausea med) intravenously, they still couldn’t get me to stop vomiting all over myself. They finally had to dose me with morphine (which, oh my God, morphine is fucking magical by the way). You know when nurses ask you how bad your pain is on a scale of 1-10? Before they gave me morphine, mine was an 11. And this is coming from someone who already deals with chronic pain on a regular basis. Don’t get sick kids. It sucks. 
> 
> Chapter Timeframe: August 17, 2999 T.A. - October 1, 2999 T.A.
> 
> Today in "Middle Earthean History, Culture, and Geography Notes AKA Stuff I Feel Like Talking About":  
> \--> Sîr Ninglor is a river just north of Lothlórien and south of the Caradhras pass which originates in the Misty Mountains and later merges with the Anduin further east.  
> \--> Tuor was the grandfather of Elrond (on his father’s side). He was also one of the great human men featured in the Silmarillion. He was raised by elves, lived as a slave, then escaped slavery only to be called to action by Ulmo (the vala of the sea) to be his champion and send a warning to Turgon. Tuor then traveled to Gondolin (an elven city, hidden in the mountains) to warn Turgon (now High King) to leave his city and come west. Turgon didn’t listen though and Tuor was instead trapped in Gondolin (city law dictated that you could come in but you couldn’t leave for fear of word ever reaching Morgoth and their secret hiding place getting discovered), but then met Turgon’s daughter, Idril, and they fell in love and married and had a son named Ëarendil (Elrond’s father). Unfortunately Morgoth later discovered the location of Gondolin anyway and the city fell and Tuor and Idril fled with their son and the remaining survivors of the city to Sirion. At the end of his life, Tuor (who had been fighting sea-longing for years) finally built a boat and sailed away to Valinor with Idril. Supposedly they made it to Valinor and Tuor, of all of mankind, was the only man to ever be counted amongst the eldar (i.e. given the gift of immortality) and so got to live happily ever after with his wife in elven paradise. However it’s implied that this might be a polite fiction made up by all of the elves and men of Middle Earth to cover up that they may have just died on the way there. But fuck it. Celírion and I both ship Idril x Tuor x happily-ever-after so in my story it’s all true. I like happy endings. Sue me.  
> \--> Yes, that’s Lucy from The Road Goes Ever On. 
> 
> Sindarin Names and Their Meanings/Pronunciations
> 
> Lagorwen - Swift Maiden (la-gore-when)  
> Naurvir - Flame Jewel (now-er-veer)  
> Túrgil - Master Star (toor-geel)


End file.
